


Maybe This

by alwayseven, nu_breed



Series: Maybe This [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-08
Updated: 2007-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:15:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayseven/pseuds/alwayseven, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nu_breed/pseuds/nu_breed





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Jared was seventeen the first time he sucked another boy's dick.

He was twenty-one the first time he sucked off a man old enough to be his father and got paid for it.

He's two months from his twenty-third birthday, and some days he feels like he's spent his lifetime hooking.

It's a life he never knew existed. It's a life that pays the bills, and as long as he keeps one foot in front of the other, it's a life he manages to deal with.

LA is 1400 miles from San Antonio where his mama and daddy live. Most days, though, it feels as far as the moon.

Jared stumbles into bed at six a. m. When he wakes to the loud, steady bass of Metallica coming from Chad's room, it's close to five p. m. and another night of work.

His head is pounding, a leftover gift from the Jack Daniels. He lost count somewhere after the ninth shot.

He stumbles blindly into the bathroom, pulling off his clothes as he goes. He catches a brief glimpse of himself in the mirror on the bathroom door. His collarbone and shoulders are marred with bruises, and there's dried come on his belly and in his hair. He leans his forehead against the mirror and closes his eyes, forcing air in through his nose, out through his mouth. He doesn't remember much beyond the stockbroker in the silk Armani suit and Stetson, pouring whiskey down his throat, laughing and slurring dirty words as his buddy fucked Jared on the carpet.

Jared learned a long time ago not to let himself think about the things he does.

"It's business, Jared, nothing else," Chad reminds him, over and over, and Jared's finally gotten to a place where he accepts it.

Jared takes four Excedrin and gets in the shower, standing under water so hot it scalds, his skin turning red. When he gets out of the shower, Chad's sitting on the counter, a mug of coffee in his hand, already dressed for the night.

Jared wraps a towel around his waist and takes the coffee from Chad's outstretched hand.

"Thanks," he mutters. "I feel like hell. "

Jared and Chad have lived together for close to two years. They're as comfortable with each other, in each other's space as if they'd been born living in each other's pockets.

"What did you do last night?" Jared asks over his shoulder as he heads back into his room, dropping the towel on the floor and rustling in the basket of clean laundry for a pair of underwear.

"A couple of lawyers," Chad says with a derisive snort. He sits at the edge of Jared's bed and watches him get dressed. "No, hey, don't wear those," Chad gestures to the black jeans Jared pulled out of his closet. "Wear the faded jeans with the tear in the knee. "

"Fuck off, what are you, my fucking stylist?"

"Yes," Chad says without even hesitating.

Jared thinks he dresses just fine, has no trouble getting paid, thanks very fucking much.

Chad leans back on his elbows, unashamedly staring at Jared. Jared makes a kissy face at him. "Eat your heart out," he says with a big cheesy grin.

"Fuck you," Chad says casually. He shifts his weight back, runs his hand down his chest, pushing his fingers down the front of his pants.

"Fuck off," Jared says laughing, throwing a t-shirt at him.

They ride together to a party in the hills, the house of some in the closet producer who uses pretty young boys the same way he uses coke. And it's just another day on the job.

***

Jared’d known most of his life that he wanted to be an actor. His parents weren’t exactly keen on the idea; he’d always been a good student, and they just assumed he’d go into law or finance. That all changed when they saw him in _Hamlet_ his last year in high school.

He remembers the conversation Ms. Reynolds had with his parents. _Jared's a natural. He has so much potential,_ she told them while Jared hovered near the doorway, pretending not to listen.

He wonders what she’d say if she could see him nowadays? Sweat pouring off his forehead, fingers pressing hard on his hips as some guy thrusts into him from behind. Maybe she’d be proud of him, the fact that he’s still as great an actor as he was then.

'Yeah. Oh baby that’s so good. Never been fucked like this before, God you’re fucking good at this. '

Jared knows how to make it good. How to give them what they need. The lines just fall out of his mouth effortlessly. Lines like ‘God, you’re so good I’d do you for free. '

A natural. A true talent.

LA took him by surprise. He didn't know it would be like this.

He had a few auditions at first. He even got signed for a pilot that didn’t get picked up, but after that everything dried up so fast he had to take a job at Basix to pay for his acting classes. That’s where he met Chad.

The first time Jared laid eyes on Chad, he thought that either the guy came from money or else Jared was doing something very wrong. Chad always had new clothes and expensive sunglasses, and he almost always came to work in the morning straight from some big party in the Hills.

When Jared pressed him, Chad said he came from Buffalo, and his parents weren’t anywhere near rich. He’d moved to LA when he was sixteen and had a couple of jobs: commercials and a two-day shoot on _Y & R_, but pretty soon after that, his agent stopped calling.

Chad didn’t look like an out of work actor who worked in a restaurant at all.

"I’m just saying, dude. If you’re raking in that much in the way of tips? You need to tell me your secret. "

Chad bit his lower lip and squinted a little. "Do you like to party?"

"Of course, everyone does in LA, right?"

"Heh. " Chad’s lip curled into a smirk, "Not what I meant, man. "

Jared went to a party with Chad that night and watched him working the room like a pro before he disappeared into the bedroom with one guy after another. Chad always came back with his pupils bigger than before and his mouth plump and red.

"We all get fucked up the ass anyway, J," Chad murmured against Jared’s neck, fucked-up and fucked-out and leaning. "May as well get what we can out of it, right?"

Jared ended the night snorting lines with Chad and sucking him while a music producer watched and jerked off. They each got a thousand dollars and a gram of coke to share. Chad gave him a hand job in the car on the way home. They didn’t say a word to each other.

It fucked with his head. In twenty minutes, he'd made more money than in one month of forty-hour weeks at the restaurant.

He'd done the math. If he worked for a year, averaging a thousand a night, he'd have enough money saved to quit the restaurant and focus full-time on acting. It was supposed to be just a way to make some money.

Only he hadn't counted on hooking becoming an addiction. Because Jared's addicted to the money, to having a fistful of hundred-dollar bills thrust in his hand for using his mouth to make a guy come. Andrew has been with him the longest, and thanks to Andrew, Jared has a shiny new Escalade with leather seats and chrome rims.

Jared's addicted to this lifestyle.

***

The last time Jared had sex because he wanted to, he'd been in LA six months. They'd met at the laundromat, the guy watching Jared with a look that said, "I want to bend you over and give you the fuck of your life. "

His name was Jason and he was a struggling actor, like Jared. They talked for a bit before Jared dragged him home and let Jason fuck him on every available surface.

That was two years ago.

These days, sex for Jared involves licking his lips, writhing his hips and whispering dirty words to anyone who pays well enough. Things his real self would never do.

He's been hooking for eighteen months. Eighteen months of rich, married men in thousand dollar suits paying him to let them do things as simple as fuck him face down on a hotel bed or as kinky as put him in a collar and make him bark like a dog. Truthfully, there's not a lot Jared doesn't do.

He's given up any hope he had of being attracted to anyone. He has so much sex he doesn't think he'll ever want to do it for fun again. Sex for money is the least sexy thing Jared's ever known.

Meeting Jensen changes all of that.

It's forty-seven minutes to midnight, and Jared's got eight hundred dollars in his pocket and the acrid, bitter taste of come on his tongue.

It's just a typical Thursday night.

 

***

Jensen’s only been in LA for six months, and he already sees it for what it is. A breeding ground for ego and insecurity and not what he signed up for.

He’s always wanted to be an actor, but this shit? Standing around for hours with a smile on his face and humoring people he normally wouldn’t spend five minutes with? That part sucks. There’s so much expected of him, and he feels kinda cheap, like he’s whoring himself out on the off-chance he’ll impress some network guy who might just cast him.

It is pilot season after all.

"Are you done with that?" There's a slow, lazy drawl near his ear, and Jensen whips his head around.

It's the kid Jensen's had his eye on since he walked into this lame excuse for a party. The one who's been shooting him heavy-lidded looks and licking his lips in a calculating sort of way. He's lean and looms over Jensen with an easy, wide smile. Jensen lets his eyes roam over him, trying for subtle, knowing he's not successful.

"Yeah, sure. " Jensen hands over the serving spoon and the kid takes it, his fingers brushing Jensen's. This time his smile's a little dirtier.

Jensen leans his hip against the buffet table and watches him load a plate with food.

The kid looks sideways at Jensen, does his own once-over, and bites his lower lip.

Jensen stifles the groan building in his stomach.

"Um. So," Jensen starts, stops, offers a self-deprecating smile and says, "are you an actor?"

The guy laughs. "Maybe once. A lifetime ago. " He extends his hand. "I’m Jared. "

"Jensen. "

Jared’s hand is warm and really fucking big, and Jensen feels heat pooling in his belly. Jared holds on a moment and when he lets go he rubs the tip of his finger over Jensen's palm, and Jensen's ready to go fuck him somewhere, anywhere.

Which is exactly the opposite of what he should be thinking about right now.

Being queer in LA is far more acceptable than in Richardson, Texas. Though Jensen has big hopes for a career, a long, healthy, successful career. And gay isn't so hot if what you want is to be a leading man.

Jensen's here to make some connections, try to land a job, not pick up tall, beautiful boys who look like the best and worst kinds of temptation.

Jared leans across the buffet table to grab a dinner roll. His shirt rides up, and Jensen can see a line of tanned skin exposed there. He can imagine how good Jared tastes, salty and warm, and there’s just so much of him that it could take hours for Jensen to learn every bit of Jared’s body.

"So, not an actor now, huh? Let me guess… a writer?"

Jared laughs and shakes his head. "Nope. "

Jared has a voice that reminds him of home, and one hell of a smile. Jensen swears he can feel that smile, like it’s connecting with his gut, and he feels his erection pressing against the zipper of his jeans. All he can think about is how good Jared looks, low-riders practically falling off his hips. Ridiculously small hips for someone so big.

Jared watches Jensen as he eats, takes bites of his food as though he hasn't eaten in weeks. Jensen lets him watch, does his own watching. Jared has nice eyes, and a wide mouth and when he smiles, his whole face changes.

There's something familiar about him, about the way he wears his jeans, the slight accent he hasn't quite managed to rid himself of, the easy sprawl of his legs.

"So, Jensen," Jared says, setting his plate on the table and reaching for a napkin. "Where're you from?"

"Richardson. Texas. " Jensen says.

Jared's face breaks into a big smile. "Get the fuck out," he says, practically giddy with it. "I'm from San Antonio. "

Jensen grins big in return and he and Jared slap hands. Jensen feels most at peace when he has pieces of home to remind him that it still exists, even amidst the gold and glitter and silicone of LA.

They talk for a little while, moving to a corner of the room, sitting on a bench, heads bent together to hear above the noise. They talk about LA, what it's like to be a Texas boy trying to survive LA's lights and pace. They talk a little about basketball - Jared's a big fan - and a little about classic country.

Jared is the most real thing Jensen's known since leaving home.

After a while, an hour or so of talking, completely lost in the comfort of seeming familiarity, Jared leans in close enough so Jensen can feel his breath warm against his skin.

"Wanna go upstairs?"

And Jensen does. He really, really wants to. Jared's looking at him with a small smile on his lips, a smile that promises more than Jensen can hope. Right now he’s so close to saying yes, screw his career.

"I can’t. " Jensen closes his eyes and inhales sharply. "I really want to, but man, I can’t. Sort of got a role to play, if you know what I mean. "

Jared leans in even closer this time and licks the shell of Jensen’s ear. "Trust me; you don’t need to worry about it. Private party, remember? No one cares. "

Jensen moans. All he can think about is how much he wants this and how good Jared feels, pressed against him.

Jensen's lying to himself. He's full of shit because he wants this, just this once, and he's going to say yes because it's been a long time since he's done something just because it felt good.

Jensen turns his face to Jared's, their foreheads nearly touching. They're partially hidden by the buffet table, but Jared's right. No one's paying them any attention.

"Yeah, okay," Jensen says hoarsely.

Jared's smile makes Jensen hot all over. "Meet me upstairs. I’ll leave the door open. "

Jensen watches Jared as he walks up the staircase. He hopes to hell he knows what he's doing.

Jensen manages to wait three minutes before going upstairs. Not that he wants to appear too eager or anything.

Jensen walks past the bathroom. Only at an industry party would there be people doing blow with the door open. He can see a blonde girl with fake boobs trapped in a halter top, cutting up lines and laughing, and it just seems so unreal. Like this is just some really fucked-up dream, sex and drugs, and he still can’t quite get a grip on the fact that this is reality.

There are about five rooms on each side of the corridor. He walks past closed doors, and he can only imagine what’s going on in there. Probably some revolting exec getting his dick sucked for the promise of an audition. And Jensen hopes he never gets that desperate for a job, because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to say no.

When he finally finds the room, Jared is sitting on the edge of a king bed, and Jensen thinks in the few minutes Jared’s been out of his sight that he had almost forgotten just how damn good Jared looks. God.

Jensen just watches Jared for what feels like long, long minutes before shutting the door behind him and snapping the lock shut. He leans against the door, and Jared gets up, walks over to him. Jensen feels like his heart’s in his throat. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this out of control, and his breathing’s uneven as Jared lays a hand on his lower back and pulls him in.

Jensen moves in to kiss him, and Jared turns his head, licking up the side of Jensen’s neck. "Okay, so before we start we need to talk business. "

Jensen pulls back. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Cash up front. Otherwise I have to leave, and believe me, I really don’t want to do that. "

Jensen’s stomach knots up and his tongue feels thick and useless. His heart’s beating about a hundred miles an hour and he still can’t quite grasp that this is happening. "You’re. A…?"

"Go on, say it. " Jared mouths along his cheek. "A whore. "

Jensen drops his eyes to the floor. He can’t even fucking look at Jared right now, and the worst thing is that he doesn’t feel disgusted. He doesn’t even want to think about the fact that he hasn’t pushed Jared away, hasn’t walked out. Jensen wonders what the hell is wrong with him because, this is one of the sexiest things ever.

Jared steps back. "Wow. You really didn't know. "

Jensen shakes his head. If he'd known, he wouldn't be here. But he is, and he knows, and he still wants this. He wants this a lot.

Jared laughs, but there’s no malice there. "You’re cute. " Jared touches his thumb to Jensen's lower lip and leans in close to press his lips beneath Jensen's ear. "And hot. And you can't begin to imagine the things I want to do to you. " Jared touches the tip of his tongue to Jensen's skin and Jensen's breath catches. Fuck. Jared's a hooker and Jensen should run and get the hell out.

God. It should be a turn-off, but Jared is so fucking _sexy_. Jensen knows he’s going to do it. He knows if he doesn’t, he’ll have to go home and jerk off, thinking about Jared the whole time.

Jensen takes a breath and pulls out his wallet. "I've got about a hundred. I don't know what you normally charge but . . . " Jensen trails off, holding the bills out to Jared.

Jared grins and takes the money, stuffing it into his pocket. "I don't come cheap," Jared says, hooking his finger in Jensen's shirt. "But I like you, so I'll give you a break. "

Jared moves to his knees and looks up at Jensen, eyes dark, lips parted. Jensen tangles his fingers in Jared's hair and leans down. Jared surges up, his mouth on Jensen's. Jared kisses possessively, hands cupping Jensen’s face, his tongue pushing in. It’s fast and desperate, and Jensen chokes a startled laugh as their teeth bang together.

Jared sucks on Jensen’s lower lip, pushes a hand between Jensen's thighs, and Jensen's almost embarrassed by how close he is. The thrill of doing something like this, something he never imagined doing, with Jared, this kid who's a startling mix of innocence and experience.

Jared breaks away and Jensen looks at him with his perfect mouth and suddenly Jensen wants more than a blowjob. He wants it all. He wants Jared naked and arching under him, wants to fuck him long and slow with his fingers and mouth and cock. Wants to be inside him so bad he can taste it. Jensen finds himself naively hoping for a next time, makes a silly vow to carry more cash with him just in case.

For now, Jared’s unbuttoning Jensen and licking up the underside of his cock, and all Jensen can process is how warm and wet and perfect Jared’s mouth is. Just like he knew it would be.

Jared flicks over the head with his tongue, and then he’s going all the way down, lips and tongue working Jensen’s cock and fuck, it’s so hot watching it that Jensen has to look away for a minute. Seeing Jared just going down on him like this, watching his dick move in and out of that mouth, isn’t going to help him with his plan to keep from coming in ten seconds flat.

Jensen grabs handfuls of Jared’s hair, and he wonders if that’s not exactly why Jared grows it as long as he does, because he really seems to enjoy it when Jensen starts thrusting, tight grip on his hair. Jensen’s trying really hard not to hurt him, but when Jared moans and Jensen can feel the vibration around his cock, Jensen forgets about being careful.

Besides, Jensen doesn’t think Jared is in any way fragile.

"Pretty mouth. " Jensen breathes, "God, you have a pretty mouth. " Jared sucks hard, Jensen pushing at the back of his throat and that's it. Jensen chokes out a warning and then he’s coming, watching Jared pull back with a smirk, Jensen’s come hitting his mouth and face and neck.

Jared looks amazing and Jensen doesn't think he's ever seen anyone look so good in his life, mouth red and used and his forehead beaded with sweat, his skin marked with Jensen's come. After a few seconds, Jared wipes himself off with his shirt. Jensen pulls him up so he’s standing, unfastens Jared’s jeans and strokes his cock, thumb slicking up the head with pre-come, and Jared’s breathing is ragged and sharp.

Jared pulls back. "You. . . don’t have to. "

Jensen kisses him then, long and slow. Tongue licking into Jared’s mouth and tasting himself there. "I want to. " Jensen sucks on Jared’s tongue and fists his cock. Long strokes that make Jared’s hips snap forward and back, and Jensen’s whispering, "Yeah, do it. Fuck my hand. "

Jared’s cock feels so good. Long and thick and hard, and Jensen’s wrist is getting sore from gripping, but he doesn’t care. He feels like he’s getting hard again just from this. "I want to fuck you," Jensen breathes into Jared’s neck and Jared shudders and tenses. His head rolls back when he comes, and he looks utterly debauched, mouth red and used and panting; Jensen doesn’t think he’s ever going to get that picture out of his head.

***

The next morning, Jensen jerks off thinking about Jared. He thinks about his wide smile, his hands on Jensen's thighs, the little noises he made when he was turned on. He comes thinking about Jared on his belly, Jensen fucking him face down.

Jensen isn't an idiot. But he can't help wishing he'll run into Jared again. He puts a little extra cash in his wallet and goes out that night to a producer's house. Tom invited him, and Jensen usually ignores anything Tom says. But Jensen thinks there's no harm in going for a half an hour, just in case Jared knows about the party, too.

Jared gave him his phone number before leaving but Jensen can't bring himself to use it. He has himself stupidly convinced it's not really the same if he runs into Jared at a party and just happens to slip him a couple hundred dollars.

The party is at a huge house in the hills and Jensen's got a headache before he's even in the door.

He looks at his watch and promises himself he'll leave in thirty minutes if there's no sign of Jared.

Jensen gets himself a drink, says a few pleasantries to people he couldn't care for less and finds a quiet corner in the back.

He's halfway through his whiskey when he feels a hand on his hip and lips pressed against his neck.

"I was really hoping you'd be here," Jared says softly, voice vibrating against Jensen's skin.

Jensen doesn't turn around but he relaxes back into Jared. Jared takes Jensen's drink and finishes it before setting it down, tucking his fingers into the front of Jensen's jeans.

"Let's get out of here," Jared says.

They go to a hotel downtown. "Not to sound crass," Jensen says when they're in the room, "but I have no idea what you charge. "

Jared looks like he's thinking about laughing, but he says, "five hundred for a blowjob, a thousand to fuck you, two if you want to fuck me. "

Jensen knows nothing about prostitution, even less about male prostitution in Hollywood, but Jensen thinks Jared must be doing pretty well for himself if he can ask for that much.

Jensen feels like a giant ass when he pulls out his wallet. He counts out ten hundred dollar bills. "How much to just fuck around," he says.

Jared leans forward, kissing Jensen hard. "That's fine," he mumbles into Jensen's mouth. Jensen grins and sets the money on the dresser and then Jared's walking them backwards and pushing Jensen down on the bed. They make out, kissing and rubbing against each other.

Eventually they're naked and Jared's got Jensen's face between his palms, kissing him slow and deep, rubbing his dick against Jared's. Jensen comes with Jared's tongue in his mouth.

"You should really call me," Jared says against Jensen's lips before he leaves.

Jensen does and they see each other three more times over the next week, though one of those times they just eat lunch together during Jensen's break, Jared picking food off Jensen's plate and laughing with his mouth open in the most endearing way Jensen's ever seen.

***

Jensen met Joanna at a cocktail party at his agent’s place. She’s a sweet girl. Blonde, fake tits and a waist so thin she could do with a few weeks of his mama’s cooking.

She’s perfect. Exactly what Tom meant when he suggested, "You know, someone to just turn up with". Jensen wanted to smack Tom across the head for that, but he knows Tom was right.

In Hollywood, no one cares if you’re gay. As long as they don’t have to see it.

Joanna's there for making him look the part.

He goes out to a club one night with Tom. It's been eight days since he met Jared, a day and a half since they last saw each other and Jensen's having trouble thinking of anything else.

He's hanging out, waiting for Jared to show up, like he promised on the phone right after he made Jensen come all over himself, his voice low and dirty, talking to him as though he were right next to him.

"So you gonna buy me a drink or just stand there dreaming about holding hands all night?"

Jensen jerks, startled, and turns to find Jared watching him, a smile on his face.

Jensen grins back.

"Hey," he says and feels awkward in that he doesn't know whether to give Jared a hug, slap him on the back or just stand there.

So he says instead, "What do you drink?"

"Whatever you like," Jared says as he presses up behind Jensen. Not too close though, the guy’s obviously discreet enough to know this isn’t the safest place to be out and proud, but Jared’s also close enough for Jensen to feel warm breath on the back of his neck, and he _knows_ if Jared moves in any closer, they’ll be touching, and Jensen wants that right now. Wants it so badly he really can’t focus on anything else.

He spins around, and Jared looks caught off guard. He takes a step back, and Jensen grabs Jared’s belt loop and pulls him back in.

Jensen bites his lower lip. "I think… I’d like to get out of here. You game?"

Jared just grins again. Fucking billion-kilowatt smile that makes Jensen swallow a lot more audibly than he’d like.

"Sure, man. " Jared waves to his friend, who doesn’t seem to be paying much attention anyway. He’s busy slamming back tequila shots with some guy Jensen’s seen around, but he couldn’t recall the guy’s name if someone paid him to. "All yours. "

 

***

 

For Jared, ‘let's get out of here’ usually means ‘let's go someplace where I can fuck you stupid. ’ So he's thrown completely for a loop when they get in Jensen's car, and Jensen takes him out towards Santa Monica. They end up in a quiet pocket of town, an anti-LA part of town Jared didn't know existed, at a bar with a Texas flag in the window and a broken neon sign advertising Pabst Blue Ribbon. It's the type of place Jared would be hanging out at with his buddies after work if he'd stayed in San Antonio.

Jared's so caught up in his thoughts, mouth slack and eyes wide, that he hasn't realized Jensen's out of the car and waiting for him until Jensen opens his door.

"You thought I was taking you somewhere else. "

Jared doesn't even bother lying as he unfolds himself from the car. "Yeah," he laughs. "I'm a little shocked. "

Jensen gives him a brilliant smile. "Keep 'em guessing," he says and pushes through the heavy wooden door of the bar.

Jared follows. It's like being home, like there's an invisible sign on the door discouraging all the pretty, shiny people. The tables and booths are packed with guys in flannel shirts and dusty boots tossing back shots of Jack Daniels or nursing cold bottles of Bud. The woman behind the bar doesn't look a day past sixty, her skin leathery and weathered from the sun and forty-plus years of two packs a day.

Jared turns to look at Jensen, who's taking it all in like he's the guest of honor at the family reunion. He's relaxed, a hand tucked loosely in his pocket, the guard he's been wearing all evening parked outside. Jensen catches Jared's eye and nods.

"Fucking A'. " Jared grins and follows Jensen to the bar.

 

The bartender greets Jensen with a kiss on the cheek and a raspy "Hey sugar. What'll it be?"

Jensen orders them two beers and leads Jared to a table in the back.

They're sprawled across from each other, talking quietly, when Jared hears a loud "Jen" from across the room. A smile breaks across Jensen's face, and he's getting up and striding halfway across the room towards a stocky guy in a faded flannel shirt, straw cowboy hat and jeans that fit close and tight.

Jared watches them hug, the sort of hug that only two guys who have been friends forever can really feel comfortable giving.

Jensen leads him to the table.

"Jared, this is Chris. Chris, Jared. "

Jared extends his hand, and Chris takes it, a wide smile on his face. He has nice eyes.

Chris sits and orders them another round.

It comes out that Chris and Jensen have known each other for years, through friends of their families. This is Chris's place, owns it with a friend of his.

"It's a fucking awesome place," Jared says, taking a swig of beer.

Chris grins. "Yup, it's a hell of a place, gotta admit. "

It takes Jared the better part of an hour to realize that Jensen is different here. He's relaxed, comfortable. There's a level of familiarity, of intimacy between him and Chris that makes Jared think maybe Chris is Jensen's Chad.

In the time he’s spent with Jensen, Jared's learned Jensen is usually acting like a filtered version of himself. But here, now, Jensen's smile is easy, and he doesn't hesitate to throw his arm around Jared's shoulder or press his lips to Jared's ear and whisper something promising.

Jared likes this Jensen.

Eventually they make their way back up to the bar, where Chris introduces Jared to some friends.

They're standing at the bar; Jensen's got his fingers tucked into the back of Jared's jeans, oddly intimate and possessive. His hand is warm against Jared's skin.

"You ready to get out of here?" Jensen says low in Jared's ear and fuck, he is now.

Jared nods.

"Hey Chris, we're gonna head out," Jensen says casually.

Chris gives them a once over, takes in Jensen's hand on Jared and gives Jensen a dirty grin. "Well hell, boy, don't let me keep you. "

Jared laughs and shakes Chris's hand.

"Don't be a stranger, Jared," Chris says, his hand warm in Jared's. They slap hands and then Jensen and Jared head out.

Jensen's got a hotel room at some swanky place in Hollywood.

Jared's been here before several times with clients, but he doesn't mention it. For reasons he won't admit out loud, he likes the feeling that this isn't another business transaction, that he and Jensen are just a couple of normal guys, hanging out, about to go fuck. He likes that Jensen showed him a part of his private life, a part that Jared has a feeling he doesn't show to many people.

Jensen lets them into the room, flicks on the light and shuts the door.

Jared leans up against the door, legs bent so that when Jensen steps between them, they almost line up.

Jared tucks his fingers in the front of Jensen's jeans, against the warm skin of his belly.

"Wanna fuck?" He says lazily, grinning, and yanks Jensen forward.

Jensen's own grin widens. He doesn't answer. He pushes his hips forward, hard, and presses his mouth to Jared's, swallowing his groan.

Jensen kisses slow and lazy, like Texas sunshine. Jared sighs into the kiss and slips his hands in Jensen's back pockets. He can feel Jensen hard against his thigh and the buzz in his belly comes from the reality that Jared wants Jensen, really fucking _wants_ him, like he hasn't wanted anyone since he started hooking.

Jensen's lips are soft, almost like a girl's, like he takes care of them, and he tastes sweet and minty like he's been chewing gum.

Jared palms Jensen's cheek, slips the fingers of his other hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. Jensen shudders and surges up, the kiss changing in that split second from teasing and gentle to a little bit frantic.

Jared falls into it, ignores all the regrets charging through his head, all the little voices shouting ‘slow down DANGER DANGER DANGER’ and the niggling feeling somewhere in the vicinity of his chest that this isn't just another trick.

He pushes everything aside and then it's just Jensen, pressed up against him, every inch of their bodies touching.

Jared pushes back from the wall, his hands on Jensen's hips, and walks them backwards into the room, fumbling and stumbling over each other until Jensen's knees hit the bed.

They tear their mouths away, panting, to catch their breaths. Jensen's eyes are heavy-lidded and dark; his lips a little bruised looking.

"Hey there," Jared says, lazy and feeling drugged, though he hasn't touched anything in days. He touches his thumb to Jensen's lower lip, pulls gently, and there's that heat in his stomach and a feeling a little like vertigo.

Jared pushes gently at Jensen's shoulder, and Jensen falls to the bed. Jared tugs at his wrist and kisses him on the cheek, trailing to his jaw, kisses the spot below his ear. "Up," he mumbles, and Jensen scoots up the bed until he's lying with his head on the pillows.

Jared straddles his hips and bends down to kiss him. Jensen's hands rest demurely at Jared's waist, and it's so startling Jared huffs a laugh against Jensen's mouth.

Jensen smiles. "Something funny?" He half-whispers into Jared's mouth.

"No, nothing," Jared breathes.

Jared slips his hands underneath Jensen's shirt where his skin is smooth and warm, the muscles clenching and fluttering beneath Jared's fingertips.

Jared strips Jensen's t-shirt off, tosses it on the floor. They help each other, clumsily and urgent, out of their clothes, kissing and fumbling.

Jared climbs back up over Jensen, his dick hard and pushing up against his belly, and sits back against Jensen's cock.

"Fuck me like this," Jared says, fisting his dick and rising up on his knees.

Jensen's got his own cock in his hand, jerking himself slowly, and Jared shudders a little watching him.

"Fuck, Jared. " The flush on Jensen’s cheeks spreads to his throat, and if Jared wasn't aching to get fucked, he'd lean down and press his lips against Jensen's skin to feel if it's as warm as it looks.

Jensen slips the head of his cock between Jared's ass cheeks and slides along the crease. He's breathing hard, hips lifting erratically, and Jared wants him inside right now.

Jared rocks on Jensen's cock, the slip and slide and push making him shiver and shake. His head's back, eyes closed, and he barely registers the telltale fumble in the bedside table.

There's the tear of the foil wrapper, and then Jensen's pressing cool lube behind Jared's balls, sliding one slick finger inside.

"Come on," Jared breathes.

Jensen groans and pulls Jared down, mouths coming together with a clash of teeth.

Jared braces himself with a hand on the headboard and lifts his hips up and then back down, taking the head of Jensen's cock inside.

"Fuck me fuck me fuck," Jared mutters under his breath, eyes closed, forehead braced against Jensen's shoulder.

Jared shifts his hips forward, then back, forward again, rocking back and forth and slowly taking all of Jensen inside.

"Oh god," Jensen groans, head back against the pillow.

Jared pushes himself up so he's kneeling over Jensen and lowers himself slowly back down on Jensen's dick, heat flaring up everywhere as he pushes down.

He uses his knees to steady himself against the bed and starts to grind down, a slow steady wave of electricity building deep inside, his whole body wound tight.

Jared wraps his fingers around his cock and jerks himself frantically, rocking faster on Jensen, trying to get him as deep as possible.

Jensen runs his hands over Jared's chest and settles them at Jared's waist, fingers gripping hot and sweaty against Jared's skin.

Jared wants this to last, but he's too close, and he can't drag his eyes away from Jensen, his golden skin and perfect body, the sweat on his chest and the flush working its way down his belly.

Jensen's hips start to thrust up, adding to the intensity, the perfect raw pleasure, hitting Jared hard and deep. Jared's stomach tightens, that familiar feeling deep down. He works his wrist faster and seconds later comes all over Jensen's chest, hair hanging in his eyes, panting.

He falls forward. Jensen's still hard in him, and he lays with his head on Jensen's chest and lets Jensen fuck up into him, his fingers digging tiny bruises into his hips, his chest heaving with his gasps for breath.

Jared tugs Jensen's earlobe with his teeth and whispers, "Come on me. "

Jensen shudders and shakes and Jared crawls off him quickly, lies on his stomach on the bed. Jensen straddles his ass and Jared looks back to see him on his knees, shoulders hunched forward, jerking his cock.

"Yeah, come on," Jared whispers and rubs his semi-hard dick against the mattress.

It's just a few strokes and then Jensen's coming all over Jared's ass with a shudder and a sigh.

"Mmm, yeah," Jared whispers when Jensen folds himself over Jared, his lips warm against Jared's shoulder.

Jared falls asleep like that; Jensen folded over him, huffing gently against his skin.

When he wakes an hour later, he shakes Jensen awake and mumbles apologetically. Jensen looks startled for a minute and then he's reaching for his wallet, handing Jared a wad of cash and kissing him one more time.

***

Jared doesn't make a habit of waking up next to johns. Usually, he's out the door before the come has a chance to dry. It's not a rule; he just never spends more time with his customers than is absolutely necessary.

Jared only has one rule, and it's not even his rule.

"If you're going to do this, I got one thing to say," Chad had said, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter, bare feet knocking against the cabinets. He had taken a pull of his beer and said seriously, "Don't get attached. "

Jared had rolled his eyes. There was no chance of that happening.

Until now.

So waking up next to Jensen is dangerous and weird on many levels, and Jared barely registers the time before he's tumbling out of bed, awkwardly pulling on his jeans, hoping to God Jensen doesn't wake up.

The second time it happens it's four days later, and Jensen wakes up, bleary-eyed and groggy. Jared mumbles an apology and rushes out of the room, his shoes in his hands.

The third time, he wakes up to Jensen's hand on his belly and Jensen's sleepy eyes watching him unblinkingly, unapologetic.

That's when he knows he's in trouble.

***

Jensen rolls out of bed at midday and the first thing he does, before he even showers is text Jared. He gets one back within a minute or two saying: 'With another client. Be there as soon as I'm done. '

Another client. Another. Jensen knows that shouldn’t sting as much as it does, but it gets him right in his gut and he has to lean against the wall when he showers, nausea hitting him in waves.

Jared gets there just after one o'clock, his hair wet. He takes a look around Jensen’s living room and falls back on the sofa.

"You’re doing pretty well now, huh? This is a really nice place, man. "

Jensen stares at Jared, eyes dark. "It’s a cool place, all right. But I didn’t call you so you could admire my decor. "

Jared grins and pulls his t-shirt over his head. "Is this what you invited me here for?" He purrs, hand rubbing across his belly.

Jensen nods and licks his lips. "Take it all off, Jared. "

Jared stands up and drops a hand to his crotch, rubs his cock with the heel of his hand and toes off his sneakers. He moves to unbutton his jeans, and Jensen crosses the room, grabs Jared’s wrist and holds it, gripping tightly. "Do it slower. "

Jared smirks and thumbs open the buttons, one at a time, watching Jensen’s face the whole time as he pulls his jeans down slow, past his hips and all the way off. Jared isn’t wearing any underwear, and Jensen breathes in deep, through his nose.

"Want you on the floor. " Jensen’s voice is ragged, uneven, and Jared just drops to his knees. The carpet’s soft and clean, and it smells like pine. Jared leans forward, pushes his ass back.

"This is what you want, right?"

Blood pounds behind Jensen's eyes, and he clenches his fists. He’s been wired, on edge, since the night before. He had taken Joanna to Mike Rosenbaum’s Halloween party, where he saw Jared rubbing all over Justin-fucking-Hartley, who had obviously left his wife and baby at home. What a piece of work.

Jensen had stood there trying to distract himself by listening to Mike’s lame jokes and Joanna gossiping with her girlfriends, but his eyes kept flicking back to Jared, jealousy gnawing away at him like acid.

Jensen had ended up in the bathroom with Tom, leaning against the vanity as Tom had cut up neat, even lines of coke with his platinum American Express. It’s always been a routine for them, Tom’s a party boy and Jensen never touches the stuff, but Tom always seems to like his company so they always end up in some bathroom with Jensen carrying on the conversation while Tom laughs and snorts his week’s paycheck up his nose.

This time was different though; Jensen’d never felt as screwed-up or as out of control. He’d spent a couple of hours watching Jared, leaning against the wall while Justin whispered in his ear, fingers hooked in Jared's belt loops. It had made him want to just shut everything out. Tom had looked like he was going to keel over when Jensen had asked him for a couple of lines, but he had passed Jensen the rolled up dollar-bill anyway and grinned when Jensen had had to lean against the bathroom wall; bitter, nasty taste of cocaine dripping down the back of this throat.

By the time he’d got back out to the party, Jensen had been so fucked-up, so wired that he’d needed to get out of there. He couldn’t deal with watching Jared anymore, seeing him flirting and laughing like some fifteen-year-old girl. Jensen had asked Joanna if she was ready to go and soon after she went to get her coat, he saw Justin disappear into one of the bedrooms with Jared. Jensen had knocked back one last glass of champagne and had tried to shut his brain off.

It didn’t work. All the way home in the car he had imagined Justin running his hands all over Jared, kissing him deeply, feeding him all the fucking coke he wanted and Jared dropping to his knees as he wrapped that pretty, perfect mouth around Justin’s dick and sucked him, teasingly slow. Jensen’d wanted to bury his fist in Justin’s pretty, chiseled face. He wouldn’t look so perfect with a broken nose and bruises and the thought alone had been completely fucking satisfying.

Jensen invited Joanna inside and they shared a bottle of Dom, not bothering with glasses, just chugging from the bottle like a couple of teenagers. She kissed him and shocked as he was, Jensen didn’t push her away when she kissed him again, deeper. He pulled up her skirt, pushed her panties to one side and fucked her on the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around him. Jensen hadn’t had sex with a woman since he had been young enough to not know any better and this was wrong and so fucking stupid, but he had needed it so badly, needed to forget all about Jared, if only for an hour or so.

The worst thing about it had been the fact that it really hadn’t mattered to Jensen who he was fucking. Joanna really deserved better than that and they both knew it.

He’d showered afterwards, but he’d still felt dirty, uncomfortable in his skin. It hadn’t been enough.

This is the only thing that feels right, and he wants it so much. Wants to fuck Jared open with his fingers and make him beg, fucking beg out loud for Jensen’s cock. Wants to suck him slow and not nearly hard enough and keep him hanging there, desperate to come. Wants to make Jared forget that anyone else even exists.

But he also wants Jared just like this, and Jensen gets his hands on Jared’s ass, stroking with the palms of his hands, fingers splayed and spreading him open and licking once, one slow, wet stripe, and Jared sighs, rolling his hips back.

Jared’s like a present when he’s like this, all laid out and all Jensen’s. Watching him like this, naked and glistening and writhing, makes Jensen all the more determined to wait it out, take his time with Jared, because he knows the pay-off is really something.

Jared isn’t patient like Jensen, though. When Jensen licks him again, slow, wet, Jared moans, loud and wanton, and thrusts his hips back, trying to fuck himself on Jensen’s tongue.

The sound goes straight to Jensen’s cock, but he pulls back. This is going to be worth the wait.

Jared growls through gritted teeth, "Come _on_. Quit playing around and fuck me. "

Jensen licks again, his tongue circling Jared’s hole this time and pushing the tip slowly inside. Jared whimpers, thrusting himself back, trying to work Jensen’s tongue in deeper.

" _God._ Please?"

But Jensen’s good at this, good at making it last. He moves up Jared’s body and murmurs against his back, "No. . . I’m going to fuck you nice and slow with my tongue, get you ready for me. You taste so good, Jared. " Jensen slides back down and holds Jared’s hips, grips him so tight that Jensen knows Jared’s going to bruise and pushes his tongue in again, slow and steady.

Jensen’s thumbs hold Jared open and he does what he just promised, pushes in and starts to fuck Jared’s ass with his tongue, and the sight of Jared, all naked and spread out and _begging_ , is exactly what he wanted. He gets his fingers inside Jared now, pushing in deep and hard, and he jerks Jared up, one arm around his chest.

"How bad do you want it?" He murmurs against Jared’s back. "How much do you want me to fuck you?"

Jared just exhales, "Screw you. " Jensen laughs and pushes another finger in, slowly, into slippery-wet, tight heat, and Jensen’s cock is aching to be inside Jared right now, but nothing beats this. Watching Jared fucking _writhing_ on Jensen’s fingers, hips rolling back and forth and his breath coming in short, hitched gasps.

"Do you think I could make you come without touching your dick?" Jensen whispers, twisting his fingers inside Jared, and Jared moans when Jensen hits him in just the right spot.

"If you pay me enough. " Jared spits out.

That does it. Jensen reaches for Jared’s discarded pants, grabbing lube and a condom from the pocket. Gets his own jeans undone and gets himself ready and lined up, slicking his hand with lube and fisting himself before pushing in all the way, not giving Jared any time to prepare for it.

"That’s all you care about, isn’t it?" Jensen breathes out. "That all I am to you, money?"

He pulls back, almost all the way out before slamming in again, hard. Jared moans and rolls his hips back, meeting Jensen’s thrusts. Jared always feels so tight and hot and perfect every time, like it’s always the first time they’ve done this, and Jensen thinks maybe that’s the best thing of all. Jensen wraps his lube-slicked hand around Jared, stroking him, fast and rough. Jared’s breathing is shallow; short, ragged breaths, and his body arches as he comes, fast, just like Jensen knew he would. Jensen can feel Jared tensing around him, and it’s too good, too much. Jensen pushes in one last time before he’s coming, squeezing Jared’s hips tight and digging his teeth into Jared’s neck.

He pulls out slowly and gets up, knotting the condom and throwing it in the trash. His breathing’s still erratic as he sits down on the sofa, watching Jared lying sprawled out on the carpet.

"It’s not that, you know. " Jared says, softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen frowns. "What?"

Jared stands up and pulls his jeans back on before sitting next to Jensen. He puts a hand on Jensen’s cheek and turns Jensen’s face towards him. "You’re more than money. It’s not… that’s not why I’m here, Jen. "

Jared kisses him softly, and Jensen feels himself smile; really smile for the first time in weeks.

When Jared leaves, Jensen doesn’t pay him. It’s different and new and it makes Jensen’s stomach flip over when he thinks about it.


	2. Chapter 2

***

"I heard a funny rumor," Chad says a few mornings later. Jared's standing bleary eyed in front of the coffeepot, counting the drips.

Jared looks at Chad expectantly.

"Matt said you canceled on him. He also said he heard you canceled with that lawyer of yours."

Jared grinds his teeth. Damn it. Matt and his fucking big mouth. Jared turns to face Chad, crosses his arms in a gesture he hopes doesn't come off as defensive, and leans against the counter.

"It's not a rumor," he says, waiting for the lecture. "Had something else come up," he says with a shrug.

Chad looks long and hard at Jared. Jared's a big boy; he doesn't need a babysitter, or a mother, but Chad's appointed himself guardian of Jared's soul or whatever.

"It's that guy. What's his name? Jeremy."

Jared rolls his eyes. "Jensen. And you're full of shit. As always." The coffee maker beeps, and Jared busies himself dumping half a cup of sugar into his cup and watching it dissolve.

"I know what's going on -" Chad says, and Jared cuts him off.

"Nothing's going on, Mom, but thanks for the concern."

Jared takes his coffee into his bedroom, but Chad follows, his keys dangling from his fingers and his sunglasses on his head.

"You look like you're in a hurry, so don't let me keep you," Jared says with as much bitchiness as he can muster.

Chad just leans against the doorjamb, arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. "Cute. Don't forget who taught you that, J."

Jared sighs. Chad has something he wants to say, Jared gets that. He also knows he's not going to be left alone until Chad says it.

"Okay, I give." He takes a sip of his coffee and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Don't humor me," Chad snaps. Jared rolls his eyes.

"Rule number one, Jared. Remember that?"

"Don't get attached," Jared grits out.

"Looks to me that's what's happening here."

"Bull. Shit. It's business. BUSINESS," Jared says firmly.

Chad doesn't buy it. "Really? When was the last time your business was giving it away for free?"

That raises Jared's hackles. "How do you know about that?"

"Never mind, it's my business to know shit." Chad blows out a sigh. He comes to stand in front of Jared, straddling his thighs.

"I'm your best friend. You and me, this is it, this all we've got." He slides his fingers into Jared's hair and rests his forehead against Jared's. Jared closes his eyes. Chad is the best friend Jared's ever had, in a twisted, fucked up sort of way. But he looks out for him, has since that first night when Jared had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Jared pushes his hand under Chad's shirt to rest on his lower back.

Chad kisses Jared softly on the lips. "I love you, you shithead," Chad says gruffly, pulling back abruptly.

Jared laughs and falls backwards. "Love you too, asshole," he says grinning as Chad slips his sunglasses on.

Chad pauses at the door. "Just. Be careful, yeah?"

Jared nods. "Yeah. Promise."

 

***

Chad sometimes feels like he’s been doing this forever. He feels old and jaded and so fucking tired. He's only twenty-five, but most days he feels like he’s forty. He's learned things the hard way.

He’d always started his day the same. Breakfast at the diner down the road: coffee, juice and eggs. He’d check his messages and plan his day, trying to fit his appointments around his Spin class at four p.m.

He’d go home, shower and hang out at The Abbey. Sit on his usual barstool, drinking his scotch and waiting. He had never had to wait long. On weekdays the place was always crawling with them; guys like Peter, the trauma surgeon who had a beachfront home in Orange County, a lawyer-wife and two little girls. Peter didn’t want to look at Chad when he fucked him. It was easier for him that way.

"Seat taken?"

He had shaken his head and taken one last sip of his drink. Filled his mouth with ice-cubes and crunched on them; slow and deliberate. It was a habit he’d had since he was a kid, always hurt his teeth, but he couldn't help himself.

"Can I get you another?"

Chad had laughed, small huff of breath, and looked up. The guy sitting next to him had been tall, lean and way too hot to be there to pick up a hustler. Chad had thought the guy would have no problem picking up dates, but a little voice in the back of his head had been urging Chad to take him home anyway.

The idea had been tempting, but Chad didn’t mix business with pleasure. It would really have fucked things up if anyone had found out he was taking guys home for fun, and Chad was sure people would find out. Scotty, one of the bartenders there, was a complete bitch. He’d never forgiven Chad for the time Chad had sucked Scotty’s boyfriend off in the bathroom for a couple of bumps of K.

"Nah, it’s all good. Thanks anyway."

Blue eyes had glinted back at him, and the guy’s mouth had turned up into a half-smile. "So, how much just to have a drink with you? That’ll do for starters, right?" He gestured to Scotty, who gritted his teeth and walked over.

Chad had nearly choked. "Wow. Caught me off-guard there, man. I thought you…yeah, a drink’s cool."

"Good to hear." He had put out his hand. "I’m Michael."

Michael’s hand had been warm, and he had gripped Chad’s hand for a few seconds too long.

"Yeah?" Scotty’s arms had been crossed, and he looked every bit the pissy little queen he always was when Chad was around.

"We’ll have… what are you drinking?"

"He always drinks bourbon." Scotty had snipped. "Cheap bourbon. Which, y’know, figures."

Chad had been forced to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

***

Chad had pretty much felt like he’d hit the jackpot. Michael was sexy and funny, and he didn’t do screwed-up shit like make Chad call him Daddy or cuff Chad’s hands together and let five of his friends jerk off on his face.

Michael had been a lawyer, and he had been rich and really fucking smart, but he had talked to Chad. Really _talked_ to him like he gave a shit what Chad had to say. Like he wasn’t just some dumb whore who had nothing to offer except his ass.

The sex had been amazing. Chad hadn't been forced to pretend with Michael, hadn't been forced to act like it was the best fuck he’d ever had, because truthfully, it really had been. Michael would call Chad from the office, and Chad would meet him at lunchtime and knot his hand in Michael’s tie, pull him in close and lick his mouth before dropping to his knees. Michael wouldn't take his clothes off, would just unzip his pants and pull his dick out, and Chad would suck him hard and fast, with Michael’s fingers pulling at Chad’s gelled spikes.

Michael wouldn't stay during the week. He would just zip himself up and kiss Chad. Suck on his neck hard enough to bruise and then leave.

On weekends though, they would spend hours in bed, and Michael would fuck him, slow and lazy. They would eat Chinese in bed and drink beer, and Chad would nearly always undercharge him. Sometimes he wouldn't charge him at all.

Michael Muhney had had a pretty, perfect wife and a kid and Chad had been so fucking jealous of them sometimes that he wanted to put his fist through a wall.

***

Michael had taken Chad away for Easter weekend. Picked him up in his BMW, and when Chad had asked where they were going, Michael had just shrugged and said, "Wherever you want."

Chad had kissed him then, long and wet, and had rubbed his thumb on Michael’s bottom lip when he pulled away.

They had ended up in San Francisco, and it was every bit as beautiful as Chad had thought it would be.

They had gotten a suite at the Hilton, and Michael had pushed Chad up against the wall as soon as the door was open. Had thumbed open the buttons on Chad’s jeans and gotten his hand inside.

"Gonna fuck you now," he had managed to get out, his voice ragged as he stroked Chad slowly, thumb brushing the head of Chad’s cock. "Been wanting to touch you all fucking day. All week."

Chad had groaned and thrown his head back.

"So fucking pretty, Chad. You drive me so crazy, you know that?"

Chad did know, and it freaked him out. He had been waiting for the day when Michael would wake the fuck up and realize that Chad was just a useless fucking hooker, not anyone worth getting crazy over.

He had nodded, though, and Michael had spun Chad around and fucked him right there as Chad braced himself against the wall, stroking himself in time with Michael’s thrusts.

That night they had eaten in. Steaks and too much champagne, and when Chad had thought he couldn’t handle any more, Michael had asked him what he wanted.

Chad wasn’t used to being asked questions like "What do you want?" but this was Michael and he had been different. Maybe the first guy Chad had ever fallen for, so he had looked away and mumbled, embarrassed and nervous as he told Michael that he wanted to fuck him. Michael had just grinned and straddled Chad, grinding himself down on Chad’s cock and riding him so effortlessly, like they’d done this a hundred times before.

They had watched each other the whole time. It had been intense and perfect, and when Chad had come inside him for the first time, Michael had kissed Chad brutally, teeth slicing Chad’s lower lip as the unthinkable happened.

Chad had never thought he would ever hear a lawyer from Beverly Hills tell Chad he loved him, and that the guy would really mean it.

Chad had never thought it’d make him feel sadder than he’d ever been in his whole miserable life, either.

Maybe if he hadn’t loved Michael right back, then he could have just laughed it off like he always had every other fucking time a john had said that to him. He hadn't been able to, though, even though he had known he was just fucking fooling himself if he thought for a second that love was enough.

Love wasn’t going to make Michael leave his perfect life and his family. The family he was so proud of he had pictures of them in his wallet.

Chad had known he was never going to be a picture in anyone’s wallet.

He hadn't deleted Michael's number from his phone. He had left it there 'just in case' and had saved the texts Michael sent to him every day. But when they had changed from ‘Where the fuck are you?’ to ‘I miss you,’ Chad had thought he was trying to torture himself. When he had gotten the one that simply said ‘I'm sorry,’ he had thrown his phone at the wall and had watched it smash into pieces.

So yeah, when Jared tells Chad that Jensen’s not just another client, he wants to gag. When Jared gets that all-too-familiar look in his eyes that says: ‘This one’s different’ or ‘He doesn’t treat me like a whore,’ it makes Chad want to fucking shake Jared and tell him this isn’t _Pretty Woman 2_.

Nothing, not even a suite at the Hilton, could ever take away the fact that guys like Chad and Jared don’t get happily ever after. Jared needs to wake the fuck up because Chad’s heard it all before. Seen it, lived it, bought the fucking t-shirt.

An actor, for fuck’s sake. Chad hasn’t met him, but he knows exactly who Jensen is; a fucking perfect guy with the series deal, the pretty girlfriend, the works. A guy who thinks he can have everything, fuck the consequences.

As long as they don’t hurt Jensen’s precious little career, that is.

It’s all so fucking familiar it makes Chad laugh so much his ribs ache.

***

Chad cancels his afternoon plans and drives over to Studio City where a guy he knows told him he could find Jensen.

Greg, an occasional client and assistant producer, points Jensen out to him on sound stage seven.

"Christ, Jared," Chad mutters under his breath as he takes off his sunglasses. The guy is pretty boy perfect and as closeted as they come.

Chad watches him for a while. He's got a nice smile, wears expensive jeans and treats the PA's respectfully.

He's sitting in a chair with his name across the back, head bent over his script.

Chad goes over. "Jensen?"

Jensen looks up, startled, and then there's a look of recognition crossing his face.

Chad doesn't offer his hand, just cuts right to the chase. This is the guy who's fucking up his best friend. He hasn't got time for pleasantries. "I'm Chad. I'm Jared's friend."

Jensen's face goes pale, and Chad's seen that look before. It's the look of a guy who's afraid his secret's going to get out.

"Relax," Chad says impatiently, rolling his eyes. "I just need to talk to you."

Jensen's eyes are wary and his shoulders tense, but he stands up. "Okay."

Chad follows him to his trailer. Jensen gets a bottle of water from the fridge. He doesn't offer one to Chad or ask him to sit. That's fine with Chad; he's not going to be long.

"Whatever you're doing with Jared, I need you to cut it out." Chad says, leaning his hip against the edge of the sofa.

Jensen chokes on his water. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Jared's good at what he does, has a lot of people relying on him if you get what I'm saying. But he's always been a little idealistic, too naive for his own good, and he hasn't said anything, but I know him. You're under his skin and that'd be fine, except he's started canceling on his customers. And he's got that fucking loopy look in his eyes and any second now he's going to forget that this isn’t a goddamn fairytale."

"So what? That's not my problem." Jensen's clearly pissed. Chad really doesn't care.

"It really fucking is," Chad spits out, "because you're more than business to him. And Jared is my family; he's all I got, so you fuck him up, you got me to deal with. And I may just be a whore, but I could make your life really fucking miserable. Got it?" Chad keeps his voice even, doesn't put his weight behind it, but he can tell from Jensen's eyes he got the message.

Chad leaves Jensen in the trailer, thinking it's a fucking shame. In another life, Jensen could have made Jared real happy.

 

***

Jensen doesn’t go home that night after they wrap shooting for the day. He doesn’t think he can face it, being alone in a house that’s far too big for just one person. Instead, he stays in his trailer after everyone has left the set, lies on his couch and polishes off half a bottle of Jack.

Which is a monumentally stupid idea, because as soon as he starts to feel the alcohol warming him, making him pliant and relaxed, all he wants to do is call Jared.

If Jensen called him, Jared would be there in a heartbeat, and it would be amazing. Even drunk sex with Jared blows Jensen’s mind. At the start, he used to have to book Jared for a date or a fuck, two, three days in advance if Jensen was lucky enough for it to be a slow week, but now? Jared seems to drop everything at a moment’s notice to see Jensen, and Jensen hadn’t even given that a second thought until Chad came rushing in to defend Jared’s honor.

The thing is, Jensen would love to pretend that Chad is just an asshole who doesn’t know shit.

But the fact is, he’s right. Jared is in way over his head.

They both are.

What’s worse is Jensen feels like there’s a kind of tug-of-war going on between his head and his feelings. Part of him is fucking ecstatic that Jared actually wants to be with him, it’s what he’s wanted all along after all. But he’s scared as hell about what that actually means.

And really? He’s got no one to blame but himself, because this is exactly what he wanted in the first place. Jensen wanted Jared so badly, right from the start. Wanted Jared to need him, to crave him just like Jensen was craving Jared.

Wanted Jared to fall in love with him.

But what did he think was going to happen once Jared did? That they’d set-up house together? That Jensen’d introduce him to his friends, his work colleagues as his ‘partner’? He’s not ready for that with someone normal, let alone a…

He can’t even say it in his head, can’t call Jared _that_ , even though it’s exactly what he is.

At one a.m. he dials Jared’s number, half-expecting him not to pick up, so when he does, Jensen just mumbles, "In my trailer. I need to see you."

"What the fuck, Jensen? You’re totally hammered."

"Just come."

He hangs up and lights a cigarette, waits for Jared to turn up.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Jared’s standing there, leaning against the doorjamb and looking so damn fucking pretty that all Jensen can do is smile and crook a finger in Jared’s direction.

Jared walks towards him, and Jensen gets his fingers in Jared’s belt loop and pulls Jared forward onto his lap. Jensen kisses him, wet and sloppy, and gets his hand under Jared’s wife beater, touching as much skin as he can while he tries to distract himself from the fucking knot of dread that’s coiling in the pit of his stomach.

"God, I’d love to fuck you right now," Jensen says as he bites Jared’s lower lip.

"So fuck me." Jared is panting, short huffs of breath as he grinds against Jensen.

Jensen grabs Jared’s hips and forces him to stop moving. "Not tonight. I just. God, Jared, I need to say something."

The smile on Jared’s face falls away like it was never there, and he clicks his teeth together. Jensen knows Jared must be nervous, because he always does that, clicks his teeth together, grinds them against each other and tenses his jaw when he’s concerned about something. "What is it?" He's barely whispering. "What the hell’s up with you, Jensen?"

Jensen’s drunk, but he manages to get his words out. "Jared, I-. You know how much I love fucking you, being with you. It means more to me than anythin', man."

Jensen never sounds more Texas than he does when he’s drunk.

Jared bites his lip. "Sounds like there’s a 'but' coming there." He pushes off Jensen and sits in the chair opposite him, rubbing his forehead. "You sure you wanna be doing this after what you’ve been drinking?"

Jensen nods. "Jared. I just… I can’t do this anymore."

Jared exhales loudly, and his jaw drops wide open and he looks… wounded. Jensen wishes he could pretend he didn’t see that look at all, but it’s out there now, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget this. This is Jared open and giving and hurt as all hell.

"It’s just. I fucking care about you too much to…"

"Don’t you fucking do this, Jensen." Jared is obviously trying to keep the waver out of his voice, but Jensen can hear it all too clearly. "Don’t you dare try and tell me you fucking care too much to hurt me when all you’re doing is breaking this thing off because you’re too fucking chickenshit to deal with it. At least my other johns are honest about being in the closet. You’re pathetic."

Jared’s face is pale, and his eyes are sad, and Jensen has to look away, because if he doesn’t, that image is going to be forever imprinted in his brain and he just...can’t handle that.

"You know what?" Jared continues. "I really don’t think I wanna hear any more. I can’t fucking believe this is happening." He stands up and walks to the door.

Jensen doesn’t get up, because he thinks if he tried, his legs probably wouldn’t hold him. But he has to say something. "He was right, you know. He said this wasn’t a fucking fairytale, and it’s really not."

Jared turns around to face Jensen. "Who? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your buddy," Jensen slurs. "Chad."

Jared’s eyes go dark and cold. "How the fuck do you know Chad?"

Jensen looks away and Jared spits out, "Answer me, Jen. You fucking owe me that much."

"He came to see me. Thought you were getting too attached." Jensen laughs, but it’s cold and he winces a little at how it sounds in the small trailer, how it must make Jared feel. "He was right, Jared. What kind of fucking Valentine's Day card do you think we make? Huh?"

Jared doesn't say anything. He throws Jensen a look mingled with disgust and hurt and walks out the door.

Jensen sits for a few minutes, head pounding and stomach queasy. His gut clenches all of a sudden, acrid taste of bile in the back of his throat, and he lurches toward the sink.

Later, he’ll try and convince himself it was only because of the alcohol.

 

***

Jared pulls over on the side of Santa Monica Boulevard on the way home, fumbling the car door open. Vomit hits the pavement between his feet, and Jared heaves until there's nothing left, grateful for the cool metal of the car behind him holding him up.

He stays hunched over, elbows on his knees until he's sure he's done.

He drives on autopilot.

When he gets home, Chad's not in yet. Jared pulls a bottle of whiskey from under the sink and sits in the chair facing the door.

When Chad comes in, just as the sun's creeping over the horizon, Jared's worked his way through half the bottle.

Chad looks startled when he walks in. Jared unfolds himself, and he's not as wasted as he should be. As he wanted to be. He doesn't stumble, and his head's clear.

"You talked to Jensen," Jared says, standing in front of Chad, blocking his way.

Chad crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. "Are you drunk?"

"Fuck off. I thought you were going to stay out of my business. I thought you were going to fucking leave me alone." Jared pushes Chad's shoulder with a rough little jab, though he really wants to pick Chad up and throw him out the window.

"I talked to him, yeah. You're in way over your head and too starry-eyed to know better."

"So what!" Jared yells. His face feels hot, and he never cries, but his throat is tight. It's hard to talk. "It's none of your business." Jared takes a breath, presses the heel of his hand against his eyes and tries to remember how not to pass out.

When Jared looks at him again, Chad's expression has softened slightly, though there's a vaguely patronizing look in his eyes.

Jared sighs and picks his bottle up off the floor. He stands up and is halfway to his bedroom when he turns back.

"It's over, he fucking ended it. Guess I have you to thank for that," Jared says, and before he can really register what he's going to do, he turns and throws the bottle as hard as he can. It hits the wall, five feet from Chad, smashes to pieces, whiskey and glass spilling everywhere.

Jared goes into his room, feeling, if not better, at least a little bit satisfied.

***

Jared is not the type for melodrama. He leaves that to Chad. Or at least he did, before Jensen went and called it quits. It's been four days, and maybe Jared's lost it a little bit. He's lost count of the number of times he's been fucked, and he’s spent a good, solid, thirty-six hours high as a kite, the longest he's ever gone without sobering up.

It's sometime around noon on the fifth day, and Jared's in bed, the blinds pulled shut and the sheets around his feet, passed the fuck out.

He's yanked out of bed with a hand on his wrist and a bucket of ice-cold water on his head, Chad telling him to get his sorry ass out of bed.

He stands there, water in his eyes, sputtering.

Chad looks pissed. "What the fuck are you doing, Jared?"

Jared crosses his arms over his chest, shivering. "I was sleeping, asshole," he says, gritting his teeth.

"You look like shit." Chad pulls a towel off the floor and throws it at Jared. He starts opening the blinds, kicking at garbage and dirty clothes as he goes.

Jared doesn't remember the last time he ate or the last time he showered, for that matter. He rubs at his hair with the towel and tells Chad to mind his own fucking business.

"Hey asshole, I'm your friend, remember?" Chad's looking at him with a little bit of pity, and Jared hates that.

"Fuck you," he mutters and pushes past Chad to the bathroom.

Jared pisses, flushes, and fumbles for his toothbrush, thinking he's never felt so out of it.

He's brushing his teeth, scrubbing at layers of fuzz and grossness when Chad comes in and leans his hip against the counter. He watches Jared, which makes Jared uncomfortable because yeah, Chad was right, he looks like shit.

"Look," Chad says after a minute, when Jared's rinsing his mouth, swishing water around and looking everywhere but at Chad. "I give you a hard time because I've been there, done that. Okay?"

Jared looks at him finally. Chad never talks about it, and Jared never asks, but somewhere between the time Chad started doing this and when he met Jared, Chad got fucked over by a guy. Jared gets it. He gets why Chad goes on about keeping a distance and never crossing the line. That's not what's going on here. Jared's just mourning the loss of a lot of potential money, is all.

He lets out a sharp laugh and looks at his toes. Yeah, right.

"I'm fine," he says after a minute, looking back up at a dirty spot on the wall behind Chad.

Chad doesn't say anything, but not because he doesn't have anything to say. Jared knows better.

***

Jared showers, grabs a sandwich and gets in the car, because he needs to get out of the apartment. He drives on autopilot, nowhere in mind. He goes out to the beach, turns around and drives inland, North on 101. It's getting late, clouds and rain rolling in, when he finally ends up at the bar.

It's dimly lit, smells like smoke and stale beer.

Chris is there, like Jared was hoping he would be. He's wearing old jeans with rips in the knees and an old Sooners t-shirt that looks like it fit once upon a time.

He looks up when Jared pushes through the heavy wooden doors. There's a smile in his eyes, and if Jared didn't know what he was looking for by coming here, he does now.

"Hey," Jared says quietly, folding himself onto the stool next to Chris. They're at the end of the bar in a dim, relatively quiet corner.

Chris looks at him for a long moment. Jared lets him, looks back unflinchingly.

"Buy you a drink?" Chris asks finally, raising his beer in question.

Jared nods. "Thanks," he says.

He's not here for a pickup, neither business nor pleasure, which is best because he's so far off his game he can barely remember having any sort of game at all. Jared has this huge empty feeling in his stomach, a four-day-old ache that nothing, not coke, not Jack; nothing's been able to cure. It lifts a little bit, goes briefly quiet, when Chris smiles a half smile, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Chris is nothing like Jensen, which is hugely comforting.

He nods to the bartender, gesturing at his beer, and the bartender sets a cold bottle in front of Jared.

They sit there, knees touching, heads bent together, talking quietly about nothing in particular. Guy stuff.

There's a football game on TV, and around them guys sit hunched over their drinks and watching the TV with rapt attention.

After a while, Jared realizes they've shifted closer. Chris's hand is warm where it rests low on his back.

Chris has pretty eyes and a pretty mouth. His hair is long and curls against the nape of his neck, and it gets in his eyes when he bends his head to hear Jared over the din. He has a slow drawl, a low voice that makes Jared lean closer to catch every word when he speaks.

They're on their third beer when Chris throws down several bills for the bartender and asks quietly, "Wanna get out of here?"

Chris is nothing like Jensen, which is why Jared says yes.

Chris drives a rusted, beat-up truck with Oklahoma plates even though he's been in LA close to ten years. His jeans aren't four thousand dollar, artfully distressed denim, they're honest to goodness worn at the knee and ass because he's had them forever and they fit him like a second skin.

The drive is quiet. Jared's slumped in the seat, watching Chris's hands on the wheel, the way the streetlights catch on the silver of his bracelets, the shadows on his face.

Chris lives in West Hollywood on the edge of Korea Town in a two bedroom flat.

"You want a beer?" Chris asks, tossing his keys on the table by the door. He doesn't reach for the light.

"No. Thanks," Jared says and steps forward. Chris meets him halfway. There's no pretense, no bullshit, no awkward stumbling around the question. Chris is sure and confident, and he surges up toward Jared, hands already at Jared's waist, anchoring him. He tangles a hand in Jared's hair and brings him down, mouths catching, lips parting. There's the taste of beer on his lips, the smell of smoke and rain on his skin, and Jared takes it all in.

Chris walks Jared backwards, towards the bedroom, his hands slipping under Jared's shirt, palms warm against his belly. His fingers are callused and cool, and Jared pushes his hand into Chris's hair, takes Chris's tongue into his mouth, breathing hard against Chris's lips. They stumble blindly backwards, teeth and lips and tongues clashing as they knock into each other.

Chris leaves the light off when they reach the bedroom, but the curtains are flung open and the moon throws light on the bed, casting shadows on the walls.

Jared's lips feel used, a little numb, and he's breathing hard when Chris pushes him to sit at the edge of the bed. Jared looks up at him, shoulders rising and falling as he catches his breath. Chris smears his thumb over Jared's bottom lip, and the way he's looking at him makes Jared hot all over.

Jared feels nervous now, stupidly, inexplicably nervous. For all the airs he puts on, all the writhing and dirty talking he does, he feels completely out of his element. None of that feels right here. Jared left it all behind with Jensen. Jensen stripped him completely of his ability to play the part, the part that Jared laid out for himself. What Jared wants to do is let Chris do whatever he wants, and Jared wants to go with it without the theatrics.

Jared's hands itch to touch, and he closes his eyes, counts to ten and turns off the self doubt and nagging voices in his head. When he opens his eyes, he rests his hands at Chris's waist. He pushes the hem of Chris's shirt up over his belly button, and Jared presses his lips there against warm tanned skin. He stands up slowly, pulling Chris's t-shirt up. Chris raises his arms to let Jared pull it all the way off, letting it fall to the floor as Chris kisses him.

Jared pulls away slightly, hands smoothing down Chris's back, just to look.

Chris is stocky, built like a wrestler, broad shoulders, thick waist. He's tan all over, except for a strip of pale skin peeking from beneath his jeans. There's a trail of hair that disappears underneath, and Jared traces it with his fingertips. He's a good half-foot taller than Chris, at least, but Chris makes up for it when he pushes Jared to the bed and crawls up over him so they line up. Jared arches into him, pulls him close and breathes into Chris's mouth.

Chris's weight is comforting and makes Jared breathless in a good way, a satisfying, thrilling way that makes Jared throw his leg over Chris's hip to hold him there. Chris kisses with his whole body, and Jared feels Chris give completely, holding nothing back, and in that way, too, he's completely, achingly different from Jensen, who gave pieces but never his whole self. Not that Jared could ever blame him. Chris knows nothing of Jared's life, like the way he pays the rent, and that makes everything that much more real in an odd sort of way, because Chris doesn't expect anything from Jared.

Chris kneels over Jared, straddling his hips. His hair's hanging in his eyes, and his lips are red and puffy.

He fingers the hem of Jared's t-shirt. "Take this off," he says, the rasp in his voice making Jared shiver.

Jared struggles to half sit up. He has a bare second to yank his shirt off before Chris is pushing him back again, hands running over his stomach and chest.

Jared rolls them over and slides down Chris's body, trailing his mouth and lips and tongue as he goes.

Chris has a tattoo on his hip, a Native American symbol that follows the curve of his waist, etched in solid, thick black lines.

Jared traces it with his fingertip and follows with his lips.

"What's this mean?" Jared asks, looking up the bed to Chris, who's watching Jared, head on his folded arm, eyes dark.

"It's Cherokee. Means 'life'."

Jared hums and presses his mouth over it, breathes warm breath against Chris's skin before he sucks the tip of the tattoo, what looks like wings of some kind, between his lips, teeth grazing.

Chris hisses in a sharp breath which turns into a groan when Jared bites down, hard enough that there are little red teeth marks when he pulls away. He grins and touches them with his thumb.

Chris's hand tangles in Jared's hair, and he coaxes him back up the bed. Chris's tongue comes out before their lips meet, and Jared takes it into his mouth, their teeth clashing, breath coming sharp and hurried. Chris wraps an arm around Jared's waist, and his fingers in Jared's hair hold his head still when he moves suddenly; rolling them over so Chris is lying on top of Jared, a knee on either side of Jared's hips.

Jared inhales, startled, and his head falls back against the pillows, mouth open, gasping for breath.

***

Chris thrusts in, hard and deep, and unfolds himself over Jared's back, pressed skin to skin. Jared gropes blindly for Chris's hand and tangles their fingers together. He bites his lip when Chris pulls out and teases Jared with the head of his dick, rubbing it, slick and lewd, over Jared's hole, making Jared lift his hips and push back, searching.

Chris makes a low approving noise and does it again. Jared moans and opens his mouth to tell Chris to hurry the fuck up, and Chris pushes back in all the way. Jared shudders and folds in on himself as Chris hits every button Jared has and some he didn't know about.

***

Somewhere around two a.m., Chris rolls Jared to his belly, gets his arms over his head and holds them there with one hand locked around both wrists.

Jared's so hard he can't help thrusting into the mattress, gasping and panting open-mouthed against the pillow.

Chris traces the fingertips of his free hand down Jared's back; light touches that almost but not quite tickle. He follows with his lips, pressing kisses down the slope of Jared's back to the curve of his ass, and Jared's so hopeful Chris is going to do what he wants him to that he bites his lower lip to keep from gasping and begging, "Fuck me with your tongue. Do it, God, Chris."

Chris presses his lips to the indentation of Jared's spine, opens his mouth and licks _down down down_ the crease of Jared's ass, his tongue hot and wet, and Jared bites down on his lip and grinds himself into the mattress.

Chris pushes his tongue in, licking slow and dirty, and Jared makes a low whimpering noise that makes him blush down to his toes.

Chris laughs, low and wicked against Jared's ass. "You like that, hmm?" he murmurs, slight vibrations shooting up Jared's spine.

Jared doesn't answer. He's too busy focusing on Chris's tongue and working up a steady rhythm against the mattress.

And then Chris is pulling back, and Jared's left panting and frustrated.

"I don't think so," Chris says softly, dangerous. He trails a finger down the path of his tongue and pushes it slowly into Jared.

"Why don't you let me hear that pretty little drawl of yours," Chris says conversationally, pushing in with his finger and twisting.

God, fuck, Chris is hot, and Jared's completely blown away by this, by how much he wants Chris's tongue in his ass.

Jared struggles to get to his knees, the way Chris's hands are shackling his wrists making it next to impossible. But he finally does, kneeling on the bed, head down on the pillow, arms bound above his head and ass out and open.

Jared stretches forward, his back one line, chest pressed to the bed.

"Come on," Jared breathes, turning his head to look at Chris.

Chris might sound relaxed and calm but he's anything but. His face is flushed, sweat matting his hair to his forehead and he's hard, dick red and pushing up against his belly.

"Yeah, that's right," Chris mutters, letting go of Jared's wrist to wrap his fingers around his dick.

Chris jerks himself slowly and removes his finger from Jared's ass. He bends and licks again, licks around Jared's hole, circles that are hot and make Jared shiver, but it's not what he wants.

"Do it," he breathes, though he's not sure Chris can hear him.

Chris mutters, "Do what?" against Jared's skin, and Jared loses all rational thought and thrusts back, panting, "Fuck me, your tongue, God, fuck me."

He's sure he's blushing all over, which makes no sense, because he's said and done much dirtier, but it's always an act and this is anything but.

He's rewarded, though, when Chris's tongue stabs at Jared's hole, hot little jabs, and Jared rocks backwards, picking up a rhythm, rocking, pushing against Chris's tongue.

And then Chris’s got two hands on his ass, spreading him, holding him open and it's raunchy and dirty and fucking amazing. Chris pushes his tongue inside Jared, fucking him slowly with his tongue at first, and then faster. Jared pushes one hand down underneath him, wraps his hand around his dick, jerking himself until he comes all over the sheets.

Chris doesn't stop, fucks him through the aftershocks until Jared's shaking a little, body wound tight and still coming down.

***

The fourth time Jared comes, a little before five as the dark is fading into gray, he's on his back, arms above his head, gripping the headboard. Chris is kneeling between his legs, pushing three fingers into his ass, which is a little sore, and Chris’s come in him making him loose and open. Jared doesn't think he can come again; he's exhausted and fucked out, but then Chris takes him into his mouth and Jared's hard again, not like it's the fourth time, needing to come like it's the first.

***

Jared wakes in the morning to Chris's thigh draped over his hip, the steady pulse of rain against the windowpanes. He looks over and Chris is completely naked, hair matted with sweat, hanging in his eyes, and Jared can feel Chris's dick, half hard, pressing against his belly.

He pushes his own damp hair off his forehead and presses the tip of his finger against a bruise forming on Chris's throat. He has a vague flashback of pressing his face to Chris's neck as Chris slid into him, over and over, until Jared was sweating and shaking and begging to come.

Jared pushes the sheet off of Chris and takes in his tanned skin, muscular thighs, the relaxed line of his jaw. He traces a finger down Chris's stomach, following the dark line of hair to the tip of Chris's cock, hard and wet. He bites his lip, groaning, against the memory of Chris fucking his mouth, fingers gently holding him still.

Jared's not above waking Chris up if it means they get to do it all again. He wraps his fingers around the head of Chris's dick and jerks him slowly, feeling the subtle changes in Chris's breathing as his cock gets harder. Jared presses his lips against Chris's jaw, keeps his eyes on Chris's, watching him blink awake. Chris's half-smile is sleepy, and he presses his hand over Jared's, guiding him.

***

Chris makes waffles, the frozen, toaster kind, but it's still nice when they sit on stools at the counter drinking orange juice and eating in silence. Chris leans over and licks the maple syrup from Jared's sticky lips, a hand tangling in his hair. The whole thing is comfortable and nice and normal. Jared sort of forgot what normal was, what it felt like, and he likes that he's found a little bit of normal in Chris.

They make out lazily in the kitchen, Jared's hands resting at Chris's naked waist.

***

 

Jensen fainted once, when he had an extremely bad flu. He can recall exactly how it felt, like he was outside himself, watching as he lost his balance and tried to hang onto the nearest person to try and steady himself, but it was too late, and he couldn’t stop himself from falling.

It’s kind of similar, what’s happening now. Except instead of standing outside himself, watching as he loses consciousness, he’s watching a completely different scene altogether. It’s completely surreal, standing in Chris’s doorway and watching him pressing Jared up against the breakfast bar. It’s just… so completely fucked-up that Jensen would laugh if it weren’t for the fact that there’s nothing remotely funny about it.

Jared’s neck is pulled back, taut, and Chris is licking a long, wet line along Jared’s collarbone. Jared’s hands are on Chris’s ass, pulling him in, and they’re just rocking against each other, needy and desperate. Jensen remembers just how good Jared feels, remembers the smell and the taste of him, and he’s torn right now between feeling turned on, or so fucking angry that he can’t even think straight. He feels like his blood is boiling and he knows he has to stop this right now, because fuck it, he’s not a masochist.

He clears his throat and leans against the doorframe.

Chris pulls back and turns to face him. Jared’s eyes flick open and he looks at Chris, confused for a minute until his gaze fixes on Jensen, and Jensen can see the shift in Jared’s expression, can see the color flood out of his cheeks.

"Jesus, Jensen. Didn’t your mama ever teach you to knock?" Chris’s breathing is all over the place, and his mouth crinkles as he grins.

"You gave me a key, remember?" Jensen grits out.

Chris laughs. "Yeah, well. Haven’t had much sleep, son." Chris’s voice is raspy and broken, and Jensen knows Chris sounds like that because he’s been boozing and fucking all night.

Chris has been fucking _Jared_ all night, and Jensen feels like someone just plunged a knife into his gut, twisted it and left it there.

Jensen struggles to keep the waver out of his voice, "Okay, so y’all are busy and I’m gonna go." He’s out the door before Chris has time to react. Jensen loves Chris more than anyone else in the world, he trusts him with his life, but right now, he doesn’t want to be anywhere the fuck near him.

Or Jared.

He gets to his car and leans against the door, head spinning and breathing so shallow he has to force himself to inhale long and slow to try and calm himself down.

"You weren’t supposed to see that." Jared’s voice is low and shaky behind him, and Jensen has to clench his teeth together, because hearing Jared speak, especially about what he’s just witnessed, is making him want to fucking slam his fist into Jared’s face.

Jensen turns around to face him, and his stomach clenches. Jared looks thin and pale and still as beautiful as he was the last time Jensen saw him, and Jensen can’t fucking stand the sight of him. He wants to ask Jared a lot of things, like how he’s been all this time, does Jared miss him and why? Why the fuck would he… But his brain’s not keeping up right now, and the words just fall out of his mouth before he can stop them. "How much?"

Jared squints. "What?"

"How much did he fucking pay you?" Jensen’s voice doesn’t sound like his own. It sounds cold and hard like glass, and he doesn't do this, doesn't usually get mean, but there's something about the way he feels about Jared that does it, and right now he's never felt so angry.

Jared looks at him for a long moment. "I didn’t let Chris fuck me for money. He doesn’t even know."

Jensen feels the wind get knocked out of him. It makes him shake with it, with anger at himself, anger at Jared, anger at the whole fucked up situation.

Jared is not a hurtful person but Jensen's pushed him to his limit. He can tell by the light missing in his eyes, the set of his jaw. Jensen steels himself.

"How much does that piss you off?" Jared grits out. "How angry are you that I let your best friend fuck me because I wanted him to? Want me to tell you about how quickly Chris had me on my knees? How many times he made me come? Or maybe you wanna hear about how hard he fucked me. I think I’m going to be sore for a week."

Jensen grips Jared’s wrist, squeezes tight. "Shut up."

"I'm good at my job, Jensen. I'm even better when I want it."

Jensen steps back, stung. He takes a breath, trying to figure out if he has any words in him that won't make this any worse or more painful than it already is. "Just. Stay away from him," Jensen mutters, staring at a point past Jared so he doesn't have to look him in the eye.

Jared laughs, a sharp, brittle, humorless sound. "Sure, Jensen. Because you asked so nicely."

Jared pushes past. He's almost to the foot of the driveway when he turns around. "Fuck you, Jensen," he says quietly, bitterly.

Jensen watches him walk away, stands there well after Jared's disappeared into the house. After a while he gets in his car, his forehead on the steering wheel and wishes for a do-over.

***

Jared hadn't expected Jensen. He hadn't expected to see him standing in Chris's doorway at nine in the morning, but maybe he should have.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?" Chris says coming up behind Jared, one hand on Jared's waist.

Jared shrugs. "Nothing. It was nothing."

Chris turns Jared to face him. "Didn't look like nothing to me. Looked like a whole lotta something."

Jared says nothing. He doesn't want Chris to know any of this. He doesn't want to tell him about his job, or how he and Jensen met or about how fucked up he is over Jensen, so he doesn't say anything.

Chris hooks his finger in Jared's belt loop and brings their faces close together. "I don't play games. You playin' some kind of game with me?"

Jared exhales sharply, shakes his head. "No. Me and Jensen, it's done. But, it's ... it's complicated."

_To say the least._

Chris blows out a breath. "Shit, Jared, it always is." Chris looks long and hard at Jared for a moment. Finally, he says, "I'm gonna tell you something, kid. Jensen, he's my best friend and I love the hell out of him. But the boy is fucked up. He's got this idea in his head that you and him ain't right."

Jared doesn't open his mouth to correct Chris, to tell him it's a bit more complicated than that, what with Jared being a whore and all. Instead he smiles weakly at Chris and kisses him once on the mouth.

***


	3. Chapter 3

***

Jensen dreams that night. He’s onstage with Chris, just like in the old days. They’re laughing and drinking while they sing _Jolene_. Just as they get to the chorus, Jared walks into the bar, leans against the counter and stares at Jensen, shaking his head.

Chris leaves Jensen there. Saunters over to Jared, slips his hands under Jared’s wife beater and kisses Jared deep, pulling him in by the hair.

"Want you to fuck me," he hears Jared moan and Jensen watches as Chris pushes Jared down on the bar, pulls his jeans down and fucks him, right there. Slow and lazy, just like Jensen used to.

Jensen tries to sing the next line and nothing comes out.

He wakes up with a dry mouth and so fucking turned on that he goes straight to the bathroom and jerks off. Bites his lip and strokes himself fast and hard and perfect, with Jared’s name spilling out before he can stop himself.

When he goes back to bed, Joanna whimpers and reaches for him. Jensen can feel her against him and she feels wrong. Feels alien against his skin.

He misses Jared, misses the way he fit around Jensen’s body like he was made for it. Misses the way Jared looked when Jensen fucked him. Head thrown back, eyes wide and his bangs falling into his eyes, or plastered to his forehead with sweat.

Jensen wants Jared there with him so much it aches, and the thought of him in Chris’s bed makes Jensen’s gut clench and his head pound. Bile rises in the back of his throat.

It’s not Jared’s fault that Jensen’s so far into the closet he’s in fucking Narnia. Jensen knows that the reason he walked away from Jared has nothing to do with Jared’s chosen profession and everything to do with Jensen’s.

And isn’t he a fucking coward for that?

Jensen loves his career. Loves being an actor, especially loves all the opportunities he’s getting right now.

But if he were honest with himself? Maybe he’d admit that he loves Jared more.

 

***

 

Seeing Jensen makes everything worse. Jared hadn't meant to get caught with Chris. He hadn't expected to see Jensen again at all, or at least not so soon.

He looked good, despite the rain in his hair and sick look of betrayal on his face. Jared's more fucked in the head than before, if that's even possible.

He takes every invitation he gets, starts being reckless with himself, with his life.

He needs the distraction.

It's been a couple of weeks since his night with Chris. He's at a big Hollywood party with an out and proud former boybander, getting paid sweetly for pretending to be in love with a pretty boy who smells nice and kisses like a god. It's not a bad deal.

Until he's halfway into his second whiskey and Coke and turns his head to laugh at something his "date" said and sees Jensen waltz in with some leggy blonde Jared remembers seeing before.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jared mutters, downing his drink and looking around wildly for a waiter.

Larry or Leon or Lance or whatever his name is raises one perfectly manicured brow. "Something I said?"

Jared turns, startled. "What? No, no, it's nothing. I'll, uh... I'll be right back. I need another drink."

Jared takes off for the bar and gets himself two more drinks, which he downs in quick succession.

He wanders back to Leonard and focuses intently on him, like he's the most interesting person Jared's ever met, though he's barely registering anything the guy says.

Jared looks over his shoulder, pretending he's not looking for Jensen. He sees him, right at the same moment Jensen looks up from his girlfriend, his eyes locking on Jared.

Jared watches the shock register, the surprise. Jensen's face goes white, like Jared's some ghost.

"Everything all right?" Lewis asks, slipping his hand around Jared's waist, his lips pressed against Jared's ear.

"What? Oh, yeah, fine. I'm great." He gives Levi a smile and pretends he believes himself.

***

An hour later, Jared stumbles blindly into the bathroom, looking for a window or black hole or something he can disappear into.

An hour of actively not watching Jensen exert public displays of heterosexuality with his busty blonde bimbo, and Jared's stomach feels tight and uneasy. Which might have more to do with the eight shots of Jack he consumed in the space of an hour. At least, maybe it was eight. He stopped counting around three.

Jared's leaning against the sink, head pressed against the mirror and eyes closed when the door opens.

It's the way his luck has been going the last few weeks that Jared knows it's Jensen without having to look up. He hears the lock click into place.

"You all right?" Jensen's voice is calm, a little stressed.

"Fine, fuck off," Jared mutters, not moving.

"Sorry, just thought I'd make sure you weren't in here drowning in your own self pity," Jensen says, voice laced with anger.

"You know what? Fuck you. What are you even doing here? Just get the fuck out. Go back to your beard."

There's a flurry of movement and Jared's being manhandled, Jensen shoving him around to face him.

"I was trying to be nice, asshole." Jared's eyes are wide open now, and Jensen's whole body is rigid with tension, hands curled into fists like he's tempted to shove them into Jared's face.

"Yeah," Jared sneers, "you're a real stand up guy." Jared slumps against the sink, thanking God it's there to hold him up. "Your girlfriend is real lucky to have a guy like you."

Jared's never claimed to be a smart guy, but somewhere in the back of his drunken brain, he knows he's going to regret letting his emotions out like this come morning.

He can barely hold himself up, he can't walk straight, and his words come out slurred and drunken, but it doesn't stop him from pushing Jensen, shoving at him to get him to do something, _anything_ other than look at him with his lips pressed in a thin line.

"Shut up," Jensen says, color in his cheeks, eyes hard.

But Jared doesn't.

"Does your perfect little girlfriend know how hard up for dick you are?" Jared's in Jensen's face, looming over him, breath hot against his cheek.

"Shut up," Jensen says again, low and quiet. A warning, a threat.

Jared doesn't listen. "You remember that first night? The way you came on my face like a teenager, you wanted it so bad. I bet you think of me when you're with her. Yeah, I bet you close your eyes and imagine my mouth, my dirty little whore's mouth on you, sucking you hard, I bet that's the only way-" and Jared doesn't finish because Jensen snaps, breaking suddenly.

"I said, shut your mouth," Jensen says, and he's pushing Jared against the wall, the tiles cool against Jared's face, Jensen's fingers digging hard and unforgiving into Jared's hips.

Jared can feel Jensen's dick pushing against his ass, and he shudders, pushing back against him.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Jensen whispers, a hard, biting edge to his voice, breath hot against Jared's neck. "You're just a wh-" and he stops, abruptly.

"A whore?" Jared says breathlessly. "Go ahead, say it. Do it, it's what I am."

"Shut up," Jensen says instead, his fingers tangling in Jared's hair, using his hips to keep Jared pinned to the wall. Jensen yanks him by his hair, bringing Jared's head back, neck twisting painfully. Jensen's mouth is warm against Jared's cheek.

Jensen's free hand pushes in front of Jared, fingers undoing Jared's jeans. Jared's having trouble breathing, his body pressed uncomfortably against the wall, his dick hard, pushing at his jeans. Jensen's fingers are warm when they curl around Jared's dick, and Jared's got too much booze and cocaine in him to be anywhere near close, but he gasps and folds in on himself just the same, feeling everything too much, too much pressure and heat, too much Jensen.

Jared's too wasted for this, too wasted to care that in the morning, he's going to regret it all. The only thing pushing its way through the haze in his head is the way Jensen's lips feel on his jaw and the painfully familiar feeling of his fingers on him.

Jared presses his forehead to the wall as Jensen's hand slides over him, firm and hot and not at all tender.

Jared sobs, half hard and fighting it, but Jensen's still there, pressed against his ass, lips muttering filth in his ear.

"You're a good whore," Jensen breathes hotly against Jared's skin, "but you're a fucking terrible liar. I know how much you want this."

Jared bites his lip and turns, pushing his cheek against the tile. Jensen's hand moves faster, and he leans forward to press his mouth awkwardly, bruisingly hard against Jared's.

Jensen tastes like bitterness and alcohol, like pain and broken dreams, and Jared clings to it, breathes it in because he's drowning, and Jensen's all there is.

Jared's hips thrust into Jensen's hand, struggling against the orgasm building hot and fast in him, almost painful in its intensity.

"Yeah, do it, come on," Jensen whispers. It's a challenge, Jensen daring Jared to betray how much he still wants Jensen, and Jared does, spilling hot and wet over Jensen's hand, panting into it, stomach curling in on itself.

Jensen bites Jared's lower lip and pulls his hand back. He wipes it on the front of Jared's jeans with an ugly sort of sneer on his lips.

Jensen pulls away, and Jared turns around, the wall the only thing keeping him upright.

His jeans are still undone, dick half hard and hanging out. He rubs his hand over his mouth and falls to his knees, because Jensen's hard, his dick pushing up against the top of his pants, and Jared just wants, despite all of his drunken fumbling and pissed off ranting, he wants one more time to know that he can make Jensen come undone.

Jared fumbles on the zipper and Jensen pushes his hand away, does it himself, palming his dick. He shudders and smears the head of his dick over Jared's mouth, precome catching on Jared's lips. Jensen's eyes are hot on Jared's, but Jared doesn't look away. He lets Jensen use him like the whore he is, like this is all Jensen ever thought of him.

Jared opens his mouth and takes Jensen in, tongue flat and sliding down as Jared does what he does best, deep throats Jensen, swallows him down effortlessly.

Jensen tangles his fingers cruelly in Jared's hair, tight and painful, forcing him down on his cock. Jared loves it. He lets out a half moan from down deep in his belly and presses his hand to his own dick, sore but trying to get up for another go.

Jared makes Jensen come in less than five minutes, using just his mouth, sucking Jensen down. Jensen tenses and pulls away in time to come all over Jared's mouth and cheek and throat, falling sticky and warm on Jared's skin.

Jared shudders and licks his lips, while Jensen turns back to the sink to clean himself up. Jared stands on shaky legs, wipes at his face and tucks himself back in.

He looks up sharply when Jensen drops several hundred-dollar bills at his feet and unlocks the door, leaving without a look back at Jared.

 

***

Jared spends the rest of the evening supported by Lance, fed alcohol and blow, occasionally fondled.

Eventually he passes out on a bed in some producer's hotel suite, come from several different people drying on him.

In the morning, he wakes with a throbbing headache and no real recollection of anything but a faint memory of Jensen. There's a wad of cash on the bedside table and a note saying ‘thanks for the fun.’

Jared stumbles into the shower and when he's done, there's nothing left in his stomach but a bone-deep empty feeling that has nothing to do with food.

***

The fact of the matter is, Jensen knows he has issues. He’s got so many issues that right now a year of therapy wouldn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how fucked in the head he is.

It’s not like it’s news or anything; he’s been that way for months now.

Jared screws him up, makes him not quite right in the head. Makes him… out of control.

He didn’t mean to treat him like he did. When Jensen saw Jared at the party, he had every intention of just ignoring him, maybe nodding and smiling, but essentially just pretending he wasn’t there. That would’ve been the simplest thing to do, best for everyone.

But he just couldn’t. Couldn’t deal with leaving it all the hell alone. Seeing Jared there, wrapped around Lance ‘Liberated and Happy’ Bass, fucking laughing and happy and just knowing that if Jensen could’ve had some fucking guts, maybe that would have been them instead. Sure, Lance was paying for the pleasure, but Jensen couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jared smile like that.

He thought maybe the coke might’ve taken his mind off it, but it just made him feel raw, like he’d been stripped completely bare for everyone to see, and Jared always does that anyway, makes him feel like that. Sometimes it’s amazing and it feels right. Not this time, though. All Jared did that night was make Jensen want to hurt him, to push his buttons just like Jared had been pushing Jensen’s. Jensen needed it then, needed to get a reaction so he could see for himself that under that tough, seen-it-all exterior, Jared was raw too.

He hadn’t intended to take it that far, but intentions don’t count for anything because he _did_. Jensen doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how Jared had looked when he’d come back out to the party; degraded and used and fucking broken, but masking his face with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Jensen spent the rest of the night trying not to look at him and trying not to think about the fact that he’d put that look on Jared’s face. He’d pretty much treated Jared worse than he’d probably ever been treated in his whole fucked-up life.

Jensen hadn’t meant to treat Jared like a whore, even though he was one. That wasn’t how things were supposed to go between them.

It’s not how he wanted to remember Jared, hurt and broken, but it’s his own fault. It’s imprinted in Jensen’s head now and sometimes he feels like he might choke on it.

 

***

 

The thing is, in terms of whoring, Jared just hadn't been liking the sex thing all that much. It was a chore, and he went through it in robotic motions, said and did what was expected of him while he kept his mind off of it.

And then Jensen came along and fucked everything up.

Jared regrets all of it. He feels saddest about the Chris thing, though; because he thinks if he hadn't gone headfirst off the deep end over Jensen, there might have been a chance for something good there.

Now Jared's head is good and fucked up, and he hates that he questions everything.

He goes cold turkey off the drugs, thinking he can still do the tricking without it, but the first time some fat fuck in a suit offers him some blow and five thousand dollars to fuck him face down on a cold bathroom floor, Jared takes it. Because he can't get through it without it.

But he's serious about it, serious enough that he puts the five grand in a savings account, takes stock of everything in checking and, two weeks and close to fifty grand in tricks later, he gets the hell out.

Jared doesn't want any of it anymore, and it's the only way he has a chance of flushing Jensen out of his system.

He answers an ad for three girls looking for a fourth roommate. They live in an awesome three-bedroom house in Venice Beach, and the minute they meet him, they're giggling and flirting and telling him he's perfect.

He leaves out the part about his former profession.

The girls are sweet. It comes out in the interview that he's not all that into the fairer sex and if anything, it endears him to them more.

His room is in the smallest, tucked in the back of the house with a separate entrance, but he spends most of his time in Sandy and Jenna's room.

The girls take to coming out of the bathroom in tiny towels, dripping water and grinning big. They cook breakfast in their underwear and smile sweetly at him when they need a light bulb changed or the garbage taken out.

Chad comes over in the mornings, when he's on his way home after a night out. Jared makes them eggs and toast, and they eat on the back deck. Like clockwork, Jenna always comes wandering out back to giggle and flirt and smile at Chad.

Sandy has an agent who knows someone who owes her a favor. Sandy tells him not to get his hopes up, but for the first time in a long time, he feels like something's going his way.

 

***

 

Jensen is a creature of habit. His day always starts at 5.30. He has a shower and runs just over three miles. Showers again and then hits Basix for breakfast. The food’s good there, and the eye-candy is even better. And really, in West Hollywood, what’s the point of a good restaurant without the view? He reads the paper while he waits for his omelet: egg whites and one yolk, ham, tomato and cheddar cheese, washed down with grapefruit juice, whole-wheat toast on the side.

Some days it’s too depressing to read the paper, so he’ll just stick to the comic strips and the entertainment pages, though sometimes that’s depressing in and of itself. Seeing younger, newer faces every day, getting the jobs he knows he could do in his sleep. Sometimes he feels like he’s all washed-up, like he had his big break, his shot at money and stardom and all that shit that everyone pretends they don’t care about, but they really do. He had all that and he lost it.

But then again, he’s lost a lot of things, and the TV career isn’t the one he thinks of most when he has an attack of maudlin. It doesn’t feel that important stacked up against the other things he had before.

Besides, he’s still working. He always did love theatre more anyway. It’s rewarding and demanding, but more importantly? He doesn’t have to keep up the fucking persona.

He had even started seeing someone for a few weeks. Didn’t last, he should’ve known what a fucking disaster dating another actor would be. Jensen knows his ego’s more than enough to contend with without adding another one into the mix. And man, Scott’s ego had been bigger than Texas. If Jensen was more of a bitch, he might’ve mentioned overcompensating, but truthfully, he had been glad it was over. Still, he had to admit that dating Scott, going out with him in public and not having to pretend he was his assistant or friend or hiding him away in some hotel room like a dirty fucking secret had made Jensen feel happier than he had in a long time. Made him feel honest and real, not like the biggest liar that ever lived.

He wishes he’d met Jared now, instead of when he felt like he was forced to be such a fucking coward. He never wanted Jared to be his dirty secret. He wanted so much more for them than that. It really doesn’t matter what he wants now, though, because in the end, he was the one who fucked it up, and he’s got no one to blame but himself.

He had tried calling. After about a month, he had stopped thinking about it and rehearsing in his head exactly what he was going to say to Jared and had just fucking bit the bullet. Chad had picked up and stayed on the phone long enough to tell Jensen to get lost. "Jared doesn’t need you calling him and getting him all fucked-up again, man. Just move the hell on. Go back to your girlfriend."

The next day he had called again, and Chad had hung up on him.

He had kept trying until what must have been about the fifth time, when Chad had exhaled sharply through his nose and said, "Well? I’m listening."

Jensen had just about fallen over from the shock of Chad being seemingly reasonable. He had sighed and said, "I broke up with her. With my girlfriend. It’s not real and I can’t do it anymore. Would you just tell him...I’m sorry?"

They had both been silent, except for Chad’s audible breathing on the other end.

"I’ll tell him if I see him again. He moved out. Said he needed to clear his head. You really screwed him up good, man." Chad had paused. "But I guess he screwed you up, too."

"Thanks," Jensen had said before he hung up, voice barely a whisper, Heart pounding, mouth dry and left with a feeling of complete and utter dread. He had known then that there was next to no chance he would ever see Jared again, and he had also known he had no one to blame for that but himself.

The whole situation had left him with this empty, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, and it was either throw himself into work or go into therapy. Jensen had chosen work; therapy just seemed far too LA. He might be firmly entrenched there, but he was still just a simple Texas boy when it all came down to it.

So when the job at Rubicon came up, he had taken it. It was so great to be on stage again, hearing the applause, getting that immediate sense of satisfaction that TV work never gives. Not to mention the fact that doing Shakespeare and Arthur Miller was gratifying in ways that no network show could ever be. Unless you were lucky enough to feature on _Grey’s Anatomy_ or something similar, and after Jensen’s body of work so far, that’s about as likely as Josh Groban duetting with Linkin Park. The money sucks in comparison to what he was earning, but Jensen’s got enough put aside to be comfortable, and he never really cared about the money that much anyway. As long as he can make a living doing what he loves, he’ll be happy.

Well, as happy as he can be.

The server brings him his coffee and he goes back to the paper, reads an article about how _Smallville_ just got renewed for another season and laughs out loud. He never would’ve thought Tom-fucking-Welling could manage to sustain a career. Jensen always imagined him going out on some bender of James Dean-like proportions.

"Seat taken?"

Jensen looks up and almost spits out his coffee. "Jesus."

"Not last time I looked."

Jared is sitting opposite him and smiling, and Jensen thinks he must be dreaming. He’s had countless ridiculous dreams like this, where Jared just happens to turn up and says all is forgiven, and there’s this sappy, romantic reunion like from some fucking Nora Ephron movie.

"You. Uh. Want coffee?"

Jared nods and steals a section of Jensen’s paper, thumbs through it and takes a couple of deep breaths. Jensen gestures to the server, who comes over and takes Jared’s order, double espresso, of course, because some things never change. Jared smiles at the guy when he gets his coffee, and Jensen’s missed this. Missed Jared’s smile so fucking much that now that Jared’s here, in front of Jensen like some fantasy, all he wants to do is stare.

Jared takes a sip and grimaces. "Man, the coffee’s gone downhill. They should fire their barista."

Jensen laughs. "You think anyone cares when the guy looks like that?"

"Well, it was better when I worked here. At least then you got good service as well as beauty."

"You worked here?"

"Oh hell, yeah. First job I had when I got to LA. I was waiting for my big break. Which, as you know, never came. This is where I met Chad and… well, y’know, this place didn’t pay the bills quite as well."

Jensen’s stomach clenches. It just feels so fucking unfair. He can’t help but wonder how differently things might have turned out if Jared had gotten that break. Jensen’s mama always told him there was no point in ‘what ifs’, told him thinking like that can drive you crazy and he’s pretty positive she was right given how crazy he’s been driving himself the last few months.

Jared looks up from the paper. "So I see Welling’s pretty much got your career now. He still securing all his wages up his nose?"

"Nah, just 95% of them. The guy likes to eat occasionally."

They both laugh, and Jensen thinks he could almost forget everything that’s happened up to this point. When Jared laughs, it’s like nothing else matters, and Jensen can imagine they’re in bed, giggling like two schoolgirls over one of Jared’s more fucked-up work stories. When Jared laughs like that, mouth wide open, head thrown back, it’s real, and it makes Jensen not care about what Jared does to earn his cash, because when it all comes down to it, that’s a job, it’s not fucking real and really, it’s not that different from being an actor.

Jensen thinks if he’ll believe that, he’ll believe anything.

"So. You…" Jensen swallows. "You still a hooker?"

"Smooth." Jared purses his lips and drums his fingers on the table, "Actually, I quit." He takes a long pause and finishes his cup of coffee. "You still an asshole closet-case?"

Jensen puts his hand on top of Jared’s. Only to stop the annoying rhythm that his fingers are making on the hardwood table.

_Sure. Right._

Jared’s hand feels cold, and Jensen grips it, fights back the impulse to do anything else, because he’s sure Jared will probably punch him if he does.

"Trying really hard not to be anymore, Jared. I’m…"

"I know." Jared looks away. "I know you are and if you say you’re fucking sorry one more time, Jen, I swear to God, I’ll deck you."

"Okay. Fair enough." Jensen can’t help but think about the last time he apologized to Jared; well, to his face, anyway, and he knows that’s why Jared doesn’t want to hear any more. Apologies have always been easy for Jensen, falling far too easily from his lips, and they’re just words. Words he meant, as it happened, but he knows that words weren’t enough to repair what he did then, and they’re sure as hell not going to help now.

"It’s just…" Jared starts to pull his hand away from Jensen, slowly. "You weren’t exactly the only asshole, Jensen. We both screwed up, y’know?"

Jensen shakes his head and laces his fingers in Jared’s, before Jared can break free from his grasp completely, unable to let go.

"Yeah, we did. We both screwed up, Jen. First of all I screwed up by changing my mind halfway through about what this…" Jared pauses, and Jensen can see him thinking, choosing his words carefully, like he’s afraid he might break something if he chooses the wrong ones. It’s vulnerable and human, and it makes Jensen want to reach right across the table and kiss him so hard Jared will stop thinking altogether. "What _us_ meant. I didn’t give you a chance to even think about what a relationship with someone like me really entails. Then when you couldn’t handle it, I picked up your best friend and went home with him. Let’s face it, Jensen, I could hold a lecture series in ‘Self-Destructive Break-Up Techniques’."

"I never stopped thinking about you, Jared. Not once."

"Yeah, Chad said you called every week like clockwork. Stalking, huh, Jensen? I’m kinda flattered." Jared smiles, but there’s something sad behind the smile, behind his eyes right now. Something like regret.

"Would’ve called every day if I didn’t think your protector would answer every fucking time. He’s a good friend, I guess."

"Yeah. He is." Jared smiles, "He’s kinda your advocate now too, which is scary. Told me to come back home and ‘sort your jilted girlfriend out’."

Jensen smiles. "I quit television, Jared. Partly because of you, but mostly because of me. I just couldn’t do it anymore, not after… I’m real glad you’re not hooking anymore." He sees the look that starts washing over Jared’s face when he says that, and Jensen shakes his head. "Not for the reasons you think. I’m glad for _you_ , man. Me? It wouldn’t have mattered if you were doing it still. Not anymore. You’re all I think about and I don’t care about anything anymore except having you here with me."

Jensen takes a breath, searches Jared’s face for some kind of sign that this is all sinking in and he’s not wasting his time here. "Please tell me I’m wrong, if I am, but I think you feel the same way, because otherwise you wouldn’t have tracked me down."

"It wasn’t that hard." Jared’s mouth twitches into a grin, "I could've predicted you’d end up here. West Hollywood with twinks serving you a low-fat, high protein breakfast."

He pauses. "But you’re right, Jen. I’ve never stopped thinking about you, either. I’m still… I need to know that you can handle it. Us. I can’t deal with the bullshit, with you struggling with your sexuality, because Jensen? You are really fucking gay."

Jensen laughs and reaches across the table. Gets one hand on the back of Jared’s neck and pulls him in, brushes his lips over Jared’s, and then they’re kissing and it’s like the last few months disappear, like it doesn’t matter whose fucking fault it was, because Jared’s mouth is warm and open and perfect, just like it always was, and they _fit_. They just do and it’s familiar, but it’s different too. Like they’re kissing for no other reason than they want to. There’s no urgency about it; it’s warm and slow and tender, like they have all the time in the world.

Jared pulls away first, rubs at his bottom lip with his thumb and grins sheepishly.

"I guess that’s a yes, then."

Jensen nods. Jared stands, moves across to Jensen and sits down next to him.

Jared kisses him again, and this time, there’s nothing soft or slow or careful about it. It’s frantic and desperate and god, so hot. Jensen can feel Jared’s tongue moving inside his mouth, sucking on Jensen’s tongue, the barest scraping of teeth, and Jared holds Jensen’s face in his hands, firm and possessive, before he pulls away.

"Jesus." Jensen sits there, panting, trying to get his breathing back under control, which isn’t particularly easy when Jared is sitting right next to him, pressed up against him like that, hard and warm.

"You keep calling me that. I mean, I know I got an ego, man, but that’s taking it a little far."

"You. What the hell was that?"

Jared grins so hard that Jensen thinks his face might just crack if he keeps it up for too long. "I figure we’ve wasted enough time. Screw the getting to know each other again crap. I mean, I have had almost everything of yours up my ass, so…"

"You are all class, Jared."

Jared nods his head in mock-appreciation. "Thank you. Glad you think so. Anyway, besides all that, I never could resist you in those damn glasses."

Jensen laughs and it feels good. It feels natural and human and normal, and he knows that he and Jared have a lot of catching up to do. Not to mention actually getting to know each other without any kind of weird pressure hanging over their heads. Jensen’s not Jared’s client anymore and Jared’s not the dirty little secret that Jensen’s paying for.

And no, it’s not a fairytale, and that’s okay. When it all comes down to it, despite who they were before and who they are now, they’re just two normal guys. Well, Jensen thinks, maybe the normal is debatable, but what the hell is normal in this town, anyway?

Maybe this is as normal as it gets.

 

 

 

 

the end


End file.
